


Repression

by esama



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Do not repost, Don't copy to another site, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: After Kadavo and Zygerria, harsh truths previously ignored start coming to light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread by nimadge, many thanks.
> 
> Seriously warning for post torture and slavery. This starts almost immediately after episodes 11-13 of Season 4 of Clone Wars, and I made it a bit worse. So. Yeah.
> 
> Background music: [Star Wars - Dark Side Themes (Reimagined) - Daniel Ciurlizza](https://youtu.be/NC4ekBXECqY)
> 
> ANNOUNCER VOICE:  
Slavery in the Republic! After a harrowing experience in court of the Zygerrian Queen, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker with the help of Jedi Master Plo Koon and the Clone Troopers of the Republic have liberated the Togruta captives from their Zygerrian slavery in the Kadavo system - experience of which Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Clone Captain Rex got a personal taste. All the captives are safe now - but the experience has left deeper marks than anyone even knows...

Rex is dead on his feet, but still standing. He concentrates onto that – _still standing_. He has been tired before, he has been injured before, he's even been _tortured_ before, none of this is specifically new, and he's still standing. Somehow, he's still standing.

The Generals are in full swing of tending to the colonists – or maybe they're refugees now, who knows. Victims, definitely. There's an emergency medical station set in the fighter bay of _the Triumphant_, with what looks like all of the medic clones of the Star Destroyer busy tending to the injured – of whom there are many. Thousands, easily. Tens of thousands, maybe.

You see a lot of horrible things, in a war like theirs. A whole colony enslaved, whole _people_ enslaved, that's… not as new as it should be, but still horrible.

"We will set course for Kiros," General Koon is saying to Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, of whom the first is listening a little too intently and the other barely at all. "Emergency relief is already on the way, and we will be stationed at the planet for the duration of the re-settlement – likely we will be part of establishing defences, as well."

"That's good to hear," General Skywalker says. "Anything we can do to help, you just let me know."

"For now I think you have all earned some downtime," General Koon says, sympathetic. "You have gone through a harrowing ordeal – and, Master Kenobi, if you don't mind my saying it… you're barely standing."

Generous, as usual, Plo Koon. Kenobi is barely _conscious_ from what Rex can tell.

"It has been a long few days," Kenobi says, sheepish in a way that artfully hides how he sags. "I daresay you're right. If you don't mind it, my fellow Jedi – I think I have earned myself a proper water bath, and a full night's rest."

"Yes, definitely," Skywalker says, grasping him by the shoulder. "I think you've might've earned yourself an actual _downtime_ this time – if you'll actually _take it_, Obi-Wan."

Rex watches with sort of detached exhaustion. How Kenobi isn't howling in pain, he can't tell. Somehow, the Jedi doesn't even flinch.

"A night's rest will do me right," Kenobi says, smiling, dismissive and apologetic, obfuscating and deflecting with the best of them. "Though I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea, either. So, if you have no further need of me..."

The other Generals let him go, Skywalker with a concerned glance, Koon with inscrutable one. Rex's General normally would push the subject, but he looks distracted, tight around the eyes and mouth, that _dead set fury_ sort of look that never brooks well – Rex has a feeling something happened on his end too. Skywalker does have a… thing with slavers, after all. He should look into it, just in case. Angry General Skywalker is rarely good for anyone.

… but Rex doesn't have the energy for it. So, instead of turning to follow the two Generals, he does a salute – somehow, it comes out brisk and perfect, despite the fact that he thinks his hands should shake. "General, if you don't mind, I'd like to be dismissed – and get geared up properly, if I can." He's still wearing the Zygerrian _duse_.

"Yes, of course, Rex," Skywalker says, and offers him a wincing smile. "Your armour is back on _the Resolute_, mind you, but I'm sure General Koon's people won't mind getting you a body glove at least."

"You can requisition a replacement at our armoury," General Koon offers sympathetically. "Until you can pick up your own gear and helmet, of course."

"Thank you, General," Rex says with a nod. "I appreciate it."

Skywalker looks at him and then sighs. "Take the rest of the day off, Rex," he says, sympathetic and a little guilty, but hiding it. "You've earned it. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

Rex doesn't need to be told twice, and he's too damned tired to examine whatever reasons Skywalker might have for this leniency. Not that he isn't a pretty lenient General to begin with, Skywalker is on the more understanding side, really, but obviously there is something off and… kriff it, he's too tired to care.

Rex just nods and turns to leave. He doesn't head to the armoury though.

* * *

Obi-Wan winces slightly as knock sounds through the cabin he'd been directed to on _the Triumphant_ – one of empty the commander suites. A quick scan in the Force tells him it's Rex on the other side of the door, and with his shoulder slumping Obi-Wan doesn't bother to even entertain the thought of not answering – wave and push with the Force, and the door opens.

Rex is still wearing Zygerrian armour, and all the dirt of Kadavo.

"One would think by now you would be sick of the sight of me, Captain," Obi-Wan jokes. "We've rather been living in each other's back pockets for the past few days."

It falls rather flat.

"Well, General, your back pocket gave me a good angle on your back," Rex says, stepping in without a hint of hesitation or as much as a nod to propriety. "I got bacta," he says simply, lifting a plastoid wrapped bundle he's holding.

Obi-Wan looks at him and then sighs, hanging his head. "Good man," he says, and runs a hand over his face.

Rex doesn't ask him why he didn't go to the medics – it's pointed, how he _doesn't ask_. His understanding feels pointed, too, as he steps closer, around the low table, and then to sit beside Obi-Wan. And still he doesn't ask, and Obi-Wan doesn't volunteer an answer. It's not really needed, is it?

It's a struggle, to get out of the torn tunics and tabards. He'd barely gotten them on, before Anakin had found them at the facility – and already they're stuck to his skin by drying blood and sweat and things he doesn't want to examine too closely. Rex helps him, but still…

It all stings terribly.

"You actually feel like taking a trip to the fresher?" Rex asks quietly, behind him, examining the damage. "This needs to be washed."

Yes, Obi-Wan reckons it does. The idea of anything other than cool, soothing bacta on his back makes his insides shrivel, though. He needs it, there must be dirt and grime on his back too, in the open wounds – if he now heals over it, it would only demand eventual trip to the medics and… and he doesn't think he can stomach that, either.

_Proud Jedi,_ a voice murmurs in his ear, with a Zygerrian slant to the voice.

Rex is quiet behind him, watching him, waiting, until Obi-Wan's been quiet for too long. Then he puts a hand on Obi-Wan's bare elbow, mindful of a cut there. "Come on," he says, just insistent enough that Obi-Wan manages to stand up.

The air on his skin feels hot and cold all at once, hot where he hurts and cold where he doesn't. He should try for a healing trance. He would, later. Right now Rex manoeuvres him to sit on the toilet, astride on it backwards so that his back is to Rex as the man grabs the hand shower and activates the floor drain.

"This will sting," the clone captain warns him, washing his own hands carefully and checking the water temperature.

"I'll do my best not to scream," Obi-Wan murmurs, not much of a joke, but the best he can manage. Rex doesn't dignify it with an answer, and Obi-Wan leans his elbows on the wall, wincing as the move stretches the torn skin of his back, making barely healed cuts sting anew.

Rex turns the water on him. Obi-Wan does not scream, but it's a close thing.

Rex says nothing, as the water runs over the cuts, as it runs black and brown and, after an agonised eternity, pink. Then he goes about carefully with a pair of tweezers, picking out everything that doesn't belong and cleaning the cuts again, every wash of water stinging, every move bringing tears to Obi-Wan's eyes.

His teeth are aching from how hard he's grinding them by the time Rex puts the hand shower away, and gets the bacta patches instead.

"Skywalker won't be happy if he finds out about you hiding these," the Captain says quietly.

"Then he better not find out," Obi-Wan murmurs and checks his shielding, just in case. Somehow, it's still holding strong – and Anakin isn't prodding, thank the Force. It's bad enough that Anakin had to play nice with the slavers. He doesn't need to add the guilt for _this_ too – Anakin is already mired in his own self-disgust and anger. Obi-Wan should have looked to it, tended to it, soothed him… he would need to, later…

Patch by patch, Rex cuts the bacta strips and lays them on the whip marks, spreading sweet, cooling sensation on the stinging welts. Obi-Wan breathes through it until the gel of the bacta strips seeps in and bit by bit the stinging eases. There are still the bruises, the burns, the possibly cracked ribs, the rest… but oh, "That's… that's much..." Obi-Wan murmurs, his voice coming out wet and wrecked. "Oh – _thank you_…"

Rex hesitates behind him and then sets both hands on his shoulders – carefully touching only where the skin is whole. "Sir…"

"Just – give me a moment," Obi-Wan says, leaning his forehead against the cool wall, shivering, his trousers thoroughly wet from the washing. He would need to get out of them, clean them, maybe get rid of them and get a replacement. All his clothes had been ripped – before he'd removed most of them, to preserve them. Not that they had been preserved, in the end.

He would have to wash the rest of himself, he's still filthy, stinking of sweat and misery and burning coal.

He would have to get up.

Obi-Wan's breath shudders, and behind him Rex says nothing – just holds his shoulders steadily and stands by while Obi-Wan tries to pull himself together again.

* * *

The Republic looks after its own. Anakin believes this, he knows this – he's seen what the Separatists do to the worlds they occupy, the bastards make it very easy to hate them. The Republic is_ good_ in comparison, it looks after its people and it approaches their new citizens with negotiations and treaties, not with blasters and enslavement. The line between good and bad there is very easy to draw.

And yet Anakin can't get her words from his head – the ones Miraj Scintel said and the ones she implied. _The Jedi Order has become nothing more than slaves to the Republic._ And it wasn't said as a taunt or an insult – no. She sounded jealous and a little frustrated.

The Queen of Zygerria was arrogant, cruel, and believed she had more power than she truly did, it loosened her tongue and made her proud – she'd been so sure she could bend him to her will. She couldn't, no slaver could, Anakin had always held onto that last inch of freedom, for as long as he knew it was there, and _yet…_

_I _am_ a slave, Skywalker… just as you are._

It refuses to leave his mind, the implications of her words and how everyone believed them. Her dying words, and that's the most important thing she had to say. _Force_, it rankles.

And why Anakin even cares about what some slaver scum thinks of him or his Order, he can't kriffing fathom, but there it is. Everyone on Zygerria believes that the Jedi were slaves in all but name, enslaved by the Republic government to do their bidding, work as their warriors in a field of battle – abandoning all their ancient ideals and creeds to _serve_.

"The Jedi serve the Republic," Anakin murmurs to himself.

"What's that, Master?"

Anakin almost flinches at that. "Ahsoka, where did you come from?"

"Just over there," she points. "I was speaking with governor Roshti – he expressed an interest in joining the Republic after all."

"Not just accepting aid?" Anakin asks, trying to quell the welling unease in his gut. "That's good news. How is he holding up – how are the rest of your people?"

"Traumatised," Ahsoka says plainly. "They're none of them used to this kind of stuff, it hit them hard. And they lost many people in Kadavo – a lot of them were killed, for no good reason. It will be a while before they recover."

Slavery, even such a brief stint of it, isn't something you recover from. Having your agency stripped away, left helpless under the will and whim of others… it's not something you can ever forget.

Anakin is over dozen years past his years of slavery, and it's damn obvious he isn't over it. Watto had been as lenient master as you could ask for, he'd never actually used whip or corporeal punishment – but he still held a detonator, and Anakin still has dreams of the damn thing, of Watto's finger hovering over the igniter, saying, _"You will behave, or else…"_

Anakin had lived now longer without the explosive than he's lived with it, and still he feels the weight of it in his gut.

And now...

"Master?" Ahsoka asks tentatively. "Are you alright?"

Anakin straightens his back a little. It's been a long time since he's felt such unease at the sound of that title – it doesn't mean the same thing from her lips as it did coming from the Zygerrians, and still… "We will see that your people are looked after, Ahsoka – their mental needs too, after what they went through."

"Thank you, Master," she says, still eying him warily. "But are you alright? You're looking a little pale."

Anakin presses his lips right together and then sighs. "Can't say the last few days have agreed with me either," he mutters and shakes his head. "It's nothing. You've had it harder than me – are you alright?"

"Better now, believe me," she says, looking at him and then relaxing a little. "I'm glad we could help my people – and that they're joining the Republic. I think it's a wise choice."

Anakin nods. "Republic will take care of them," he says. "They will have to be trained, of course, but… this will never happen again."

_Slaves to the Republic._

_Jedi serve the Republic._

Why does it feel like he's standing under a flimsy cover, trying to deny it's raining out there?

* * *

Ahsoka holds her chin up as she sees to the last of the colonists from Kiros getting treated. There are some who are worse injured than others, but nothing time and proper medical treatment can't take care of. Aside from those who are no longer with them, no one had suffered permanent injuries, and bacta would take care of the scars too.

Though she feels sympathy for the losses and for those whom the losses impacted closely, she also feels proud for having saved this many. Of the fifty thousand, forty nine and more are still alive and would recover. It's not the sort of result they usually get from situations like these – and it might be because the Zygerrians hadn't wanted to waste _merchandise_, but still. Over ninety eight percent survival rate.

So as long as she keeps that in mind, she won't break down over the sight of so many of her own people, the most peaceful of her kind at that, so badly brutalised.

"You should take time for yourself too, young Ahsoka," Master Plo comments. "The days haven't been easy for you either, I feel."

"I'm alright," Ahsoka says, clasping her hands behind her back. "Master Skywalker looked after me, no one so much as touched me."

"Sometimes it doesn't take a touch," Master Plo says gently. "I sense turmoil in your mind, little one – and witnessing horrible things can have as much an impact as experiencing them."

"I've seen worse," Ahsoka says, and it comes out wry without her intention. "I mean, it's terrible, of course, but – so many survived and not that many died, that's – that's great!"

Master Plo looks at her, inscrutable behind his goggles and mask and yet – he seems sad for her. Ahsoka wavers a little as he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"There was a time when our young didn't need to witness such things – never mind _worse_ things," he murmurs. "Walk with me, Ahsoka."

The colonists are being looked after, they would be alright, so Ahsoka lets herself be drawn away as Master Plo leads her from the hangar bay and into the corridors of the of _the Triumphant_. They're abuzz with activity as the clones work to situate the thousands of Togrutas in a Star Destroyer normally equipped for under ten thousand regular passengers and crew combined.

"I would like for you to join me in meditation," Master Plo says, nodding respectfully to the clones and Togrutas they pass by. "So that we may contemplate this situation together."

Not sure what there is to contemplate, really, Ahsoka nods agreeably. "I'm always happy to meditate with you, Master Plo. Master Skywalker isn't much for meditation during downtime – he's more for battle meditation, really."

"I know, and I hear you've gotten quite skilled at it yourself," Plo Koon says, warm. "A valuable skill in these troubled times – but I think there is value in taking a moment to pause and work one's way through recent experiences."

"If you say so," Ahsoka agrees. 

They make their way through the ship, through stairs and lifts and to the row of officers' cabins, near the bridge. Ahsoka can just barely feel Master Kenobi nearby, his presence stiff and carefully shielded – and very tired. Hopefully he's going to bed; he definitely looked like he needed it. There is something else though…

They pass by one of the locked officer cabins, and judging by the way Master Plo tilts his head, he too feels that Obi-Wan isn't alone. Rex is there with him – though if Master Plo can recognize the Captain's force signature…

Plo Koon looks at her and then lifts a hand in a quiet, almost mischievous shushing gesture, before motioning her to go ahead. Ahsoka arches her brows but doesn't question it – together, they enter the General's cabin.

"Master Plo..." Ahsoka starts, a little uncertain now.

"I can sense that what happened in Zygerria had a great impact on you all," Plo Koon says, moving into the cabin. "Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker are dealing with it in their own way – but you, little one, are not. Would you like to talk about what happened?"

"Nothing, really. I masqueraded as Master Skywalker's slave until he was caught and then I spent the rest of the time in a hanging cage," Ahsoka shrugs. "I've gone through worse and it was only a little humiliating. But I think it was worse for Skyguy."

Master Plo hums, taking a seat on the floor cushions set around his low teatable – there's nothing in the way of tea there, though, just a decorative bowl of different coloured rocks set artfully in sand. "And what of the things you saw, young one?"

Ahsoka hesitates and then sits down across from him on folded legs. "The slavery," she says. "It was – bad. But I was prepared for it. I knew it would be bad, Master Skywalker warned me."

"I'm sure he did and I'm sure you handled it admirably," Master Plo says, which almost makes Ahsoka wince – she hadn't, really. "How do you feel about it now, though?"

"I – still think it's bad?" Ahsoka offers carefully. "Obviously. And I understand my Master better, I think, knowing little more about his past."

"Always a good thing," Plo agrees, watching her patiently.

Ahsoka sighs and shifts where she sits. "I don't understand how people can… do that to other people," she admits, letting go of some of her carefully maintained restraint. "To do that to sentient, sapient people, who haven't ever harmed anyone or done anything wrong... It was all so – senseless and _evil_. Droids are much cheaper and easier to maintain than slaves anyway, you don't have to feed them and they don't get sick and they can do all the things people can do, so… what's even the point of doing that to people?"

Plo sighs. "Power, young Ahsoka," he says sadly. "Good old-fashioned power over others."

"Ugh," Ahsoka mutters. "Some people are just the worst. People should be free, all people. It's wrong. Everyone in Zygerria are just evil."

"In a culture built on slavery, where all power and influence rests in the hands of those with slaves and in the control and accumulation of those slaves…" Plo Koon hums. "The perpetuation of the practice might very well be the only way one can be free and enjoy autonomy, in such a system."

Ahsoka gives him a dubious look. "Are you going to be playing devil's advocate to _slavers_, Master Plo?"

He chuckles. "No, but one should always seek to learn about foreign concepts – and one's enemies. Not to agree with them, or sympathise with them, but to _understand_ them – for if we can understand the causes, we can better deal with the effects. There is a reason why slavery is, thankfully, a dying practice – but unfortunately, there must also be reasons why it persists in places. They aren't good or justifiable reasons, but they exist, and if we can understand them, then perhaps…"

Ahsoka shakes her head. "You're wise as always, Master Plo," she murmurs, not sure she even wants to understand Zygerrians.

Plo radiates sympathy and warm understanding at her. "Will you join me in meditation, young Ahsoka?" he asks gently.

"Yes, of course," Ahsoka agrees with a sigh and shifts into a lotus position. "It would be my pleasure."

_It didn't use to be this way,_ he thinks regretfully as they sink into the meditation together. _These weren't the lessons we had to teach our younglings. It didn't use to be this way at all._

What didn't? Ahsoka wonders, as Master Plo takes his own regrets, and quietly lets them slip into the Force.

_Nothing,_ he thinks. _Nothing at all._

* * *

Rex gets General Kenobi washed and tended to, and then has to drag him to bed. The man makes a terrible wheezing noise as he goes down, but whatever force – or Force – that had been supporting him before is giving in now, and the man is out like a light. A sputtering light, flashing weakly, barely strong enough to illuminate anything.

Damn, but Rex is tired. So tired that he doesn't even bother with the notion of leaving and finding a bunk to sleep in – no, he just falls to the armchair beside Kenobi's bed and sinks into the cushions with a quiet groan.

He hadn't taken nearly as much of a beating as Kenobi had, but he'd felt the brunt of their hosts' hospitality. More than that, though, he's feeling the labour. Clones might be used to hard work, he can march for hours, for days if he needs to, but shovelling burning coal all day long – and worse yet, doing it without any damn reason...

The slave facility wasn't even a factory; it was just a place to work the slaves either to compliance… or to their death. They shovelled coal and rocks endlessly into containers which were then systematically knocked over, all their hard work spread across the floor all over again for them to work their way through, again, for no other reason than just _because._ That was the worst thing about it, that it wasn't even work for a purpose, it was just mindless, meaningless task, endless and pointless by design.

_Comply or die for no reason, no purpose, working yourself to death pointlessly._

It broke a lot of the Togruta captives _fast_. Rex had heard them in the night, growing bitter and hopeless, worn down by the pointless cruelty of it.

Rex had worked hard and he hadn't thought about it, forcing himself to think of it as a training exercise, a test, trial in endurance. It had kept his spirits up while Kenobi had withered and taken punishment after punishment. The Jedi hadn't been able to stop_ arguing_, stop trying to talk_ sense_ to their captors until the very end. It got him more beatings than anything else, the talking, the reasoning. The ensuing beatings wore him down quickly, despite the Jedi's hallowed strength.

Rex hadn't been looking forward to seeing him break and he's damn grateful it didn't get to that point.

But neither of them came out unscathed from the experience, either.

Sighing, Rex looks over to the Jedi lying on his stomach, his back a mess of inflamed skin and patches of bacta. Then, tiredly, the clone Captain begins ridding himself of his foreign armour, wincing at the bruises underneath.

There was an insidious cruelty to all of it, not just the treatment, but... all of it. The Togrutas were pacifists, well out of the way of anyone, with next to nothing about their world that made it valuable. There was no reason for it. It almost looks like the Separatists went after them just because they were there, and they could. Like it was a point to prove. This is what happens if you try to abstain. This is what happens if you try to pay the pacifist.

_The Jedi only make things worse._

Rex drops the chest piece of the Zygerrian armour on the floor and follows it with pauldrons and faulds. He can feel the grime of Kadavo still on him, should wash it off while he's here and has access to Kenobi's privileges – and he doesn't even care how badly against the regs it is, mere clone taking advantage of their proximity to a Jedi. Kenobi wouldn't mind, and if he did, well, it would be only fair, wouldn't it, after he'd treated the man and kept his secrets? 

Just the idea of getting up makes Rex want to sink lower on the chair though.

The Zygerrian armour gleams at his feet – even as dirty as it is, Rex can see the embellishments on it. The thing is actually gilded with gold. It's a vile and impractical piece of armour, designed to look good rather than function well – and Rex can just imagine that it was made in a slave labour factory somewhere.

Slaves...

_It's the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved!_

_You're in a position of power now – how does it feel?_

Damn it. Rex runs a hand over his face, rubbing at his gritty eyes. First Umbara and Krell with his complete bantha shab and now this. 

What the hell is the point of any of this? Sometimes it feels like there isn't one, on either side – like no one knows what they're doing. There's no honour in any of this, no glory, no… no kriffing _sense_. And then the Separatists do stuff like this and it feels like that's the point. Separatists are just that evil and someone has to stop them. But… why?

What does anyone get out of this anymore? Going by military history, every war was about resources, be it food or valuable materials or territory or just power and influence – all wars ultimately boil down to what the opposing sides stand to gain or lose.

It's been a while now, and there have been more battles than Rex cares to count. He's a captain, he's got command training, that comes with some level of reasoning – and more and more it really feels like the Separatists are going out of their way to just make Republic hate them. Like – like that's it. Not resources, not territory, not even winning the war – they just try to provoke them into prolong the war, pointlessly, for no gain at all.

Like Seppies are knocking over containers of coal and rocks, just for the Republic to pick up, all over again… and then die in the process.

Lowering his hands, Rex looks at Kenobi, lying there, dead to the world after shouldering the brunt of countless whips lashes, aimed at others to punish him. Rex had tried his best not to be the reason for them, but he hadn't always succeeded. Some of those lashes had been aimed at him.

What did Kenobi gain from taking them instead?

Rex had killed the one who's made most of the wounds on Kenobi's back, where the Jedi's morals stopped him from killing an unarmed man. Was it enough to pay the Jedi back for the pain he'd suffered? Probably not.

Would Kenobi ever ask for more?

Definitely not.

Leaning his chin on his knuckles, the clone watches the unconscious Jedi breathe, his thoughts growing increasingly grim as the bacta on broken skin grows dark with fresh blood.

Eventually, Rex sleeps – one eye open, still watching the General's back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for allusions of intentions of Non-Consensual sexual activities. Nothing happens, happened, or will happen, but there are allusions.

Anakin fails to get any sleep that night, with old memories and newer experiences vying for attention from his already distracted mind. After a couple of hours of trying he gives up and puts in a token effort of meditation, which also fails, utterly. There are just… too many minds on board _ the Triumphant_, so many of them wide awake and refreshing their own horrors, that there is just not enough space. The _ trauma _ of the Togrutas is like an oppressive cloak over the massive spaceship – nearly fifty thousand people, all of them _ in distress… _

Running a hand over his face, Anakin takes to the corridors. The ship is in hyperspace and on night cycle, most of the systems turned on low – even the lights in the corridors are slightly dimmer. It's not how night cycle is handled on _the Resolute_ – half of the time Yularan doesn't even bother to instigate a day-night-cycle on board the ship, actually, as they tend to get stationed by or on planets and would inevitably have to synch up with whatever cycle said planet worked by.

Plo Koon likes giving his men a sense of _ routine _ they could rely on, though. Anakin has even heard some of his clones murmuring about it – about the scheduled time-off, the precise on-and-off-duty times, how strictly regular sleep schedules were enforced when possible. It's all adhering to optimal human needs, from what Anakin can tell. Plo's clones enjoy more free time than most other Jedi will – or in Anakin's case, _ can _ – give them. Sometimes it sounds like they're off duty more often than not.

Anakin is honestly jealous that Plo can do it. The only time he dares to truly give his men downtime is when he's injured and can't go on the field. Every other time, it's up in the karkin air where or when they'd be sent out and when they'd have the time to _ breathe, _ never mind take a break.

He's never been on _ the Triumphant _ during a night cycle. It's weird – a big hulking Star Destroyer, quieted down for the night. It's almost… peaceful.

Except that it _ isn't._

The misery of the Togruta colonists is starting to permeate the ship's metal. It's not as bad as the initial outwash of _ shock _ coming off them, he'd blocked that right off… but now their emotions linger. They've had the time to think about it, now, and the relief of not being in Kadavo anymore is enhancing what actually happened there. Experiences are becoming memories, shocks turning to realisations, horror into knowledge. It makes it all… heavier.

Anakin breathes in and out and tries to centre himself – but all he can think is the Quarter Row back on Tatooine. The walls felt like pain there too – like the fleeting touches of thousands of slaves who had lived in those old pourstone buildings, maybe died there, whose names no one remembered… but whose presence Anakin could still, sometimes, feel.

"Pain might be fleeting," his mother had said, when he'd told her about it. "But _ agony _ lingers."

Anakin's steps take him to the hangar bay, where the Togrutans are mostly housed. They have set up temporary housing, fencing sections off with medical curtains, spreading all the available gurneys across. On a ship only designed to house one sixth of its current passenger numbers, there is nowhere near enough beds or their substitutes for all the Togrutas, so some of them are sharing and more are sleeping on the floors, barely with blankets to cover them.

Many aren't sleeping at all. They huddle together in groups, forming little circles around tables, sitting together on the floor, some leaning over lights and lanterns like they might offer some warmth, speaking quietly. There are clones moving about, keeping watch, walking by the makeshift housings, patrolling, and it's only making the Togrutas more nervous and watchful. They've been burned by guards, and the clones might not be slavers – but they're armed, armoured, and militant.

But tens of thousands of emotionally shaken refugees can turn into one hell of a security issue too, so...

"Sir," a member of the 104th says, spotting him. "You need something?"

The man feels uneasy, so Anakin waves a hand. "At ease, trooper – I'm off duty," he says, something which he figures clones with a _ lot _ of off-duty time would understand. "Just can't sleep."

"Ah, I see, sir. They're serving food and refreshment on the other end of the hangar bay, if you want some, General," the clone says, relaxing a little. "They're for the colonists, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting you some – I can fetch something for you, if you'd like."

That's a little surprising. Not that Anakin isn't used to clones looking after him, even sometimes just outright putting food in his hands – Obi-Wan had taught them all bad habits where that goes… but he's not used to other Jedi's battalions being like that. Though he's worked with the 104th before, it was never too closely and he doesn't know any of the battalions clones by name. Usually clones of select battalions only look after their own Jedi like that, all personal like, and some get nothing at all, only the barest professional courtesy. If even that.

Lately, it's more common to get a cold shoulder from strange clones. Krell had alienated a good chunk of the GAR with what he'd done, there.

And still this guy just… offers. Just like that. Like it's normal. Plo's clones are something else.

Anakin smiles a little. "Thank you, trooper, but I'm fine. I'm just walking about, trying to clear my head a bit, nothing more."

The clone nods, accepting that. "Alright sir, if you say so. But if you need anything…"

"I'll be sure to ask, thank you, trooper."

The clone gives him an easy but brisk salute, and then heads off to continue his patrol. Anakin watches him go, thoughtful. Looks like the guy is informing others on the patrol, because they stop sending glances Anakin's way and go back to their duties, less guarded.

It's always kind of fascinating, watching the clones of other Jedi, how different they can get. Obi-Wan's clones are all wanna-be-scholars, almost all of them read and research in their downtime, bettering and improving themselves – Anakin had heard his own clones complaining about their entertainment choices involving nature documentaries and climate studies. Kit Fisto's clones are all cheerfully laid back out of combat, easily relaxing, making jokes, enjoying themselves however they could. The 187th were all strict and professional and constantly training to get better and stronger, a lot like their General, Mace Windu. And Plo Koon's clone companies are just… _ nice. _

All Jedi install in their clones a bit of themselves, it feels like. Anakin's known about it for a while now, realised it the same way most every other Jedi must've when the clones started customising themselves and their armour more openly, but… he's never really examined the reasons. How intentional it is, how accidental – how… coincidental of their creation…

Anakin runs a hand over his chin and sighs. He's trying to distract himself from the welling tension wafting off the Togrutans. It's mellowed a little, but it's still there. It's also still _ unnervingly _ familiar in nature. Feels like having something tender inside him, like muscle that's cramping, like a carpet burn.

He should do something about it, go to talk to the colonists – do the Jedi thing and reassure them, bring them calm. He should – he knows this horror, he should know how to deal with it. Problem is, it's been twelve years since he was a slave – and he still has no karking idea how to deal with it.

But he's a Jedi, so he _ should _…

Anakin lifts his head, as something breaches through the cloud of misery hanging over the refugees. It's like little flash of light, or a sudden breath of air.

Somewhere, a good two hundred meters away, there is a woman – singing. Her voice is quiet, so quiet Anakin can barely hear it, it takes Force to carry the notes to his ears, but it's there. She has a beautiful voice, deep and resonant, a strong singer's voice.

She's singing a lullaby – and the tune carries with it an impression of a child, no, two, nestled to her side on a cramped gurney. The two younglings are tired and cranky and inclined to cry, and she's been trying to keep them quiet, keep them unnoticed, keep them _ safe _ – she's so tense and tired and still afraid, only holding on for her children. And now, after days of being beaten for it, she's daring – and it really feels like that, like it takes _ courage _ – to sing.

Anakin doesn't know the words – she's singing in another language – but the tune is familiar. His mother used to sing a similar tune, singing of birds that had never even existed on Tatooine, the only thing she remembered of the planet she'd came from before…

The Togrutas are going quiet around the singer now, listening carefully – an emotion washes over them like a gentle shockwave, a ripple on a pond's surface. Then, somewhere… someone else starts to sing too, matching the singer's words and tune, joining in her song. It's quiet, halting, nervous… and then a third voice joins in. And fourth. And then more.

The clones around the hangar bay stop to listen, the feel coming off of them _ puzzled_, as the singing spreads, as the whole hangar bay is filled with quiet, sleepy singing of former slaves. There are many voices in it now, men, women, young, old, high and low. Soon, it sounds like a great choir as handful of singers become hundreds, and then thousands.

Anakin remembers, barely, haltingly, a hall of slaves, weary and hungry, singing together kind of like this – the only form of entertainment and enjoyment people in chains could manage.

He flees the hangar bay before the Togrutas get to the third verse.

* * *

Obi-Wan wakes to a familiar, secure presence at his back, a hand on the back of his neck. Rex, he knows instinctively.

"Sir," the clone says quietly. "It's nearly morning – and General Skywalker is at the door."

For a bleary moment Obi-Wan doesn't understand a word of it – then, as he shifts to lift up and the move strains the muscles and stretches the skin, pain lances through the tender flesh of his back and he understands too much. Rex, Kadavo, Zygerrians, _the Triumphant_ – Anakin.

Obi-Wan presses his forehead on the pillows for a moment, trying to breathe. "Captain Rex, why are you –"

"Too kriffin tired to find a bunk, sir, sorry," Rex admits. "I'll get you a bathrobe."

Obi-Wan swallows through the resurface of pains and aches and shields, shields, shields. Judging by the spark of alarm coming from outside, Anakin still caught onto some of it, shavit all. Sometimes, his former Padawan's level of empathy could be so… frustrating.

Obi-Wan has shields to block it, over a decade together made it necessary – but that only works when he remembers to keep them up. And Anakin doesn't_ poke. _ He's poking now.

Time to face the music, Obi-Wan thinks, breathes in and out and then pushes himself slowly to sit up on his knees.

Rex comes from the fresher, carrying with him a clean bathrobe. Obi-Wan realises, embarrassingly belatedly, that he's fully naked on the bed.

And Captain Rex has apparently stayed at his side all night.

Well. That. This isn't going to be odd at all.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan says, his voice coming out cracked, as Rex opens and holds the robe out of him. Bless the clones and their utter lack of body conscience, the Jedi thinks with fond weariness as Rex helps him to slip his arms into the sleeves.

His back is objectively better, after a full night of inactivity and bacta. The skin must be mostly closed up and the infection had certainly gone down. The bruises underneath are making themselves felt now, though, with the sharper pain of cuts no longer there to block it.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes while tying the robe shut, centering himself on other things than the pain – on the feeling of healing, on the cool soothing sensation of the bacta, on Rex's resolution. "Have you slept?" Obi-Wan asks quietly.

"A few hours," Rex admits. "I'll be alright."

Obi-Wan looks at him, considering offering him the bed. Rex likely wouldn't take it, with Anakin behind the door. "I have no idea how to explain your presence in my cabin, Captain," Obi-Wan comments quietly.

The clone runs a hand over his lightly stubbled chin and shrugs. "Truth could work."

Obi-Wan sighs at that. "Very well," he agrees and stands up, tidying the bed by pulling the duvet straight with the Force. "Go on, let Anakin in."

Rex nods and while he goes for the door, Obi-Wan reaches and fetches himself some water. His hand is steady as he lifts the glass, thank the Force, though he still feels shaky to the core.

Healing trance would not go amiss. He hadn't been able to, in Kadavo – the collar had shook him every time his heart beat dropped below a certain rate, designed to keep him from sleeping. Another insidious way of breaking someone.

There's a mechanical woosh as the door slides open. "Fancy seeing you here, Rex," Anakin comments, wary. "Morning."

"Good morning, General," Rex says and now he sounds a little awkward. Not beyond a little embarrassment, after all. "I, uh. I was offering assistance to General Kenobi. And then grew too tired to find a bunk. Sorry, sir."

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks, and though this would be a delightful place for suggestive jokes, Anakin's voice is more worried than amused. Alas, Obi-Wan would likely not be able to distract him from the truth, or cover it up with an assumption.

Obi-Wan drinks his water and then turns to look at his former Padawan.

Anakin doesn't look well. 

"You look terrible," Obi-Wan could says, surprised. "Anakin, are you alright?"

"_ Am I alright _ – Obi-Wan, you look like you're about to fall over! Did something happen, are you hurt – Rex, what happened?"

Rex falters and Obi-Wan sighs. "Our hosts weren't terribly hospitable, I'm afraid. I'll be alright, Captain Rex helped me with the worst of it," he says, watching Anakin closely. "You haven't slept at all, have you – you haven't slept in _ days_."

"Don't try to distract me," Anakin says sharply. "I felt you – Rex, how bad is it? Tell me the truth."

"Uh," Rex says and throws Obi-Wan an apologetic look. "Pretty bad, sir – but nothing bacta and time won't heal."

"Obi-Wan, show me," Anakin demands, stepping closer.

Obi-Wan considers the feeling coming off of him and shakes his head. "No," he says. "I think not. Your mind is in disarray, Anakin – when was the last time you rested properly?"

Anakin grits his teeth and Obi-Wan sends him all his resolution – this is not an argument they'd be having. "Before Kiros, I think," Anakin admits then, begrudgingly, rubbing a hand over his neck. "Funnily enough, I didn't really feel comfortable in Miraj Scintel's palace."

_ Or her bed, _ Anakin adds, silent and deeply disturbed.

Obi-Wan carefully doesn't react to that, thought it's difficult not to. It doesn't feel like anything had happened beyond implications and suggestions, but it _ could _ have, it _ might _ have, if things had been prolonged, and the very idea makes Anakin nauseous in a way that's almost tangible in the air. The memory is like poison, and it's definitely not helping with the already difficult state of Anakin's mind.

They had gotten lucky with how fast the situation has been resolved, on both their ends. If such a word as_ luck _ can even be applied here.

Obi-Wan breathes in and out and then says, "Meditation might not go amiss," as steadily as he can. "For both of us."

Anakin considers him warily and then sighs. "Might not be wrong," he muses. _ It's kind of why I came anyway… _ "But only if you do a healing trance."

Obi-Wan nods in agreement at that and then looks to Rex, who is looking between them, watchful. "Would you like to join us, Captain?" Obi-Wan offers. "Or you could take the bed."

Rex looks at him – and now Anakin looks between them, thoughtful. "The bed, I think. I'm sorry General – it has been a long few days."

"That's alright, Rex. You rest up," Anakin says while Obi-Wan goes to fetch seat cushions. "You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

_ You're not trying to pilfer Rex from me, are you, Obi-Wan? _ Anakin questions suspiciously. _ You wouldn't do that, right? _

_ If he were a man that could be pilfered so easily, I wouldn't even want to, _ Obi-Wan answers. _ But yes, in a heartbeat. _

_ Don't you dare. _

Obi-Wan smiles a little at that, the air lightening just a bit. He offers one of the cushions to Anakin and together they sit down, Obi-Wan biting back a grimace and Anakin battling his emotions.

_ Don't center on your anxieties, _ Obi-Wan thinks and closes his eyes.

* * *

Rex sleeps maybe for an hour, waking up alert and tense to the beeping of a comm unit. The Jedi, it looks like, were still meditating – Skywalker comes out of it first, releasing a sharp sigh and opening his eyes while Kenobi frowns, keeping his eyes shut but obviously listening.

The com unit buzzing is Rex's General's.

"Skywalker," the Jedi answer it.

"We're coming up on the Kiros system – half an hour until landing procedures," General Plo Koon's voice informs him. "_The Resolute_ is stationed in orbit and had informed us that the Separatist presence on the planet has been cleared – the system is clear."

"That's good news," Skywalker answers, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sure the colonists are looking forward to getting back home. What's the word on the planetary defences?"

Koon is suspiciously quiet for a moment.

"In authorisation limbo, huh?" Skywalker asks wryly.

"We haven't gotten an affirmative as of yet, but _the Resolute_ has secured the planet and there is a rudimentary blockade in the works – the colony is, for now, secure."

"Alright, thank you, Master Plo. I'll be right there," Skywalker says.

Rex lifts his head, feeling a little more rested now, though still not up to hundred percent. Good enough for government work, he decides, and starts getting up.

"I'll handle it, Obi-Wan," Skywalker says when Kenobi opens his eyes. "You're still hurt."

"Not much of an excuse to skirt one's duties – I'm on the mend now, and shouldn't have trouble with light duty. If nothing else, I can send a strongly worded holo to Coruscant," Kenobi says, waving a hand at him and sitting up. "Perhaps even get those defences approved."

Skywalker hesitates and then admits, "That... would be useful, yes. Hmm. Captain," he says then, turning to Rex who snaps to attention. "Normally I'd leave Ahsoka with Obi-Wan, but I'm going to need her down on the planet, she's a soothing influence to the colonists. Can you stay with General Kenobi?"

"I don't need a minder, Anakin," Kenobi says dryly.

Skywalker gives him a flat look. "I think maybe you do. And since Cody isn't here..." he says and stands up fluidly. "Rex, do you mind?"

Feeling a bit like he's being intentionally given light duty as well, Rex runs a hand over his scalp. He really needs a shave. "No, sir, I don't mind."

"Great, then it's settled," Skywalker says, already turning to leave. "I expect him back, Obi-Wan. Let me know when we're getting those defences."

"Honestly," Kenobi murmurs after him. "What trouble does he expect me to get in on Plo's ship? It's the safest ship in the fleet."

"It only takes one problem, sir," Rex comments. "And with all due respect... it's not _ your _ ship."

Kenobi glances at him and then hums in agreement. "I suppose not," he says and runs a hand through his hair, still somewhat messy from sleep and lack of maintenance after the previous night's shower. "It is interesting, the cultures we grow on board these vessels."

"Sir?"

"Something Anakin meditated on – the cultures clones develop within their battalions, within their ships, and how different the atmosphere on our Cruisers can get. They are rather like small cities unto themselves," Kenobi says and stretches his arms slowly and carefully.

"If you can call something that's over a kilometer in length _ small,_ sir," Rex muses dubiously. That's what they meditated about? He thought it was for healing and releasing tension or whatever – not… clone culture.

It's kind of startling, that they think there even _ is _a culture there.

Kenobi hums and then considers him, standing there in his stained and ripped up body glove, while the Jedi stands there in a mere bathrobe.

"I think we both need a change of clothes," the Jedi then comments.

"Right, sir," Rex agrees and nods briskly. "I'll go requisition a replacement robes for you and see if I can have my bucket sent over from _the Resolute_."

"Ah, yes. That sounds good, Captain," the Jedi nods, thoughtful.

"I'll have someone bring food for you as well," Rex adds.

"For both of us," Kenobi corrects, smiling. "And Captain Rex?"

"Sir?"

Kenobi looks at him, his smile gaining a serious edge. "Thank you," he says, quietly, _ sincerely_, and bows his head.

Rex winces – the move must hurt – and nods quickly. "It was… a privilege, sir."

Kenobi bows again and Rex turns to leave, all but fleeing the suddenly very confusing atmosphere of Kenobi's cabin.

Of course there are clones wearing the 104th's grey out in the corridor, passing by just in time to see him exiting Kenobi's cabin in nothing but undersuit, _ of course. _And of course they notice and slow down to stare at him in curious interest.

Rex shakes his head and says, "Can you please pass down the word for the galley to send General Kenobi something to eat?" He waits for them to comply, still watching him intently, before turning to head for the armoury, knowing that word would go around the ship in about half an hour – and likely reach _the Resolute_ in less than that.

It would be a _ great _ day, he just feels it in his bones.

* * *

Kiros is a beautiful planet, verdantly green and full of life. It doesn't have oceans or high elevation varieties, but the percentage of liquid water is still rather high – locked in lakes, rivers and massive wells of ground water which feed the forest that covers the surface of the entire planet. Kiros also has a remarkably steady orbit around its sun, and next to no axial tilt, being in state of equinox for 90 percent of solar cycle, giving the planet a temperate and even weather all year round.

It's an incredible planet – and yet, almost worthless in the Galactic scheme of things. It's so far removed in the expansion zone that is literally in no one's way – there's neither incoming or outgoing trade in the region. Neither the planet nor the system has much in the way of valuable resources, there's nothing there, except forests, incredibly tame avians, and the Togruta colonists.

It's… upsetting to think that the colonists are the most valuable resource the region has to offer. And of course they would be, they _ should _ be, people are inherently valuable beyond measure… but not like that.

Ahsoka contemplates the nature of people who go after others like the Zygerrians had gone after the Togrutas and has to admit – even after all the meditation, she still doesn't understand.

"There are easier, less – less damaging, less evil, ways of making a planetary economy," she mutters. "Build tech, make ships, make food, produce ration packets, _ anything. _Slavery can't even be that profitable, in a galaxy with droids."

"Depends on the slave," Anakin says, watching from her side as the Togruta colonists prepare to return home. They'd be landing _ the Triumphant _ at the centre of the capital city, the quickest and easiest way of getting everyone home. "How skilled, how rare, how beautiful…"

"Ugh," Ahsoka says. "It's the worst."

"Yeah, it is," Anakin mutters. "Didn't last for that long here, that's something. And maybe people will wake up with this incident and the Senate will finally do something about places like Zygerria."

Ahsoka gives him a glance. He doesn't sound nor look too hopeful about that. "Zygerria is a Separatist world," she muses.

"Yeah – they're collecting just the absolute best in that rotten coalition of theirs, aren't they," Anakin harrumphs and folds his arms. "Best and brightest the galaxy has to offer."

"You're in a mood," Ahsoka comments warily. "Did you sleep badly?"

Anakin glances at her and then sighs. "I guess I'm still in a bad mood," he muses. "Sorry, little one, I didn't mean to project."

"You didn't, you just look ticked off."

_ Well, that's because I am. Hate this kriffin bantha fod, _Anakin thinks, definitely projecting now, and offering her a tired smile. "The sooner we get your people settled and safe at home, the sooner I'll feel better."

"You and me both," Ahsoka admits, considering him. He's definitely affected by all of this, by like...a lot. "Master, Obi-Wan told me about – about Tatooine."

"Yeah," Anakin agrees, his expression darkening.

"I know it doesn't change anything, but – I'm sorry."

Anakin is quiet for a moment, watching the Togrutas gather into groups. "It was a long time ago," he says quietly. "Honestly, I have tried to forget it and not let it affect me." Not with much success, it sounds like.

"But you still remember it?" Ahsoka asks worriedly. "Even though you were so young?" How impactful the experience must've been to leave that deep a mark.

Anakin looks at her. "I was old for an initiate, Ahsoka – I was eight when I was brought into the Order, almost nine. I had a whole life before the Jedi Order."

"Huh. I didn't know that – but didn't you become Padawan really young?" At least that's what everyone says.

"Yeah – just after joining the Order. Obi-Wan took me kind of immediately," Anakin agrees and shakes his head. "This whole thing is bringing up all sorts of memories. Honestly, could've done without, but here we are."

"Hmm," Ahsoka hums and narrows her eyes. "Wait," she says slowly, suspiciously. "If you were that old… does that mean I've been in the Jedi Order longer than you?"

"What, no, of course not," Anakin says quickly.

"I was three when I was brought in by master Plo – and you're now… how old are you now?"

Anakin coughs.

"Oh, come on – how old?"

"Uh, twenty – no, twenty one now?" Anakin muses.

Ahsoka stares at him in horror. "And you were nine when you – you only have a _ year _ of seniority on me!"

"No, I don't," Anakin says warningly, casting her a look. "I became a padawan straight away, so you might have been in the Order only a year less than me – but I have nine years of being padawan behind me, and two of being a knight. And I _ am _ older than you."

"I can't believe this," Ahsoka says. "You've been in the Order only for twelve years, why didn't I realise this? How did they even let you have a padawan?"

Anakin sighs. "Honestly, it's something I question every day. Though if you want to blame someone for this mess, blame Obi-Wan. He became my Master the day he was knighted. Actually, it might've been _ before _ he was even knighted. So really, all my failings are his fault."

"Our whole line is messed up, isn't it?"

"We do have both Dooku and Yoda in our line, so… yeah, pretty much."

Ahsoka grins a little at that, and Anakin cracks a little bit of a smile too, looking and feeling a little less tight and grim now. "We'll do alright," Ahsoka says, wrapping an arm around Anakin's waist. "Messy lineage and all."

"Absolutely, just watch us," Anakin agrees and together they turn to the Togrutas, to help them prepare for landing.


	3. Chapter 3

Obi-Wan lets the holo projector shut down, sitting down beside the table with a sigh.

He'd made his case. They'd been sent to Kiros for a reason to try and secure the allegiance of the colonists, to persuade them away from the Separatists, but right now he can't quite remember _ why_. Now that everything is said and done, the interest in the small, remote colony world seems to have waned rather fast.

It's not the first time it has happened either. Many planets seem to be only of interest to the Senate when there are enemies present – and though Obi-Wan cannot argue against the results here, they had saved the colonists after all, and dealt a blow to a truly monstrous system in Zygerria and Kadavo… it's a little hollow, now.

There would be no planetary defences for Kiros. A token security force would be stationed at the planet, a Clone company of 144 men would set up an outpost with the necessary equipment and firepower and that… would be it. It's hardly the sort of force necessary to secure a world of Kiros' size, especially one with a history of abuse already. Should Dooku and the Zygerrians turn their attention on Kiros again… a single clone company would be nowhere near enough to deter them.

Should they attack.

Rex clears his throat behind him and Obi-Wan looks up. "With all due respect," the Captain says. "That's not going to be enough."

"Likely not, if the colony is attacked again," Obi-Wan agrees with a sigh and looks away. "But it seems like the Republic war budget can only reach so far, and Kiros is… rather removed from the main theatres of the war."

"That's a load of shab."

Obi-Wan smothers a smile, leaning his chin to his knuckles. "It will only be an issue if the planet is attacked again," he muses.

Rex frowns a little at that. "You – don't think they will?"

Obi-Wan doesn't answer, looking away. It's a treasonous, worrisome thought, but… why would they be, when the point has already been made? That's what his instincts say about the whole matter, and in the course of the war he's learned to trust them. Kiros, its people, this whole mess, it has served its purpose. Unless another point would need to be made, it would quite quickly fall back into the obscurity it enjoyed before.

There's nothing of value in Kiros… except people. And he doubts the people would make for nice submissive slaves in the future.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan looks away. "Have they begun unloading the refugees?"

"Yes, sir, it began about ten minutes ago," Rex says, eyeing him warily. "Sir…"

Obi-Wan takes support of the holotable's edge and levers himself up. "Let's go and see," he says, and then smiles at the captain's scowl. "Look only, I won't even leave the ship's shadow. I would rather like some fresh air, though – wouldn't you?"

Rex narrows his eyes a little and then nods, stepping aside to let Obi-Wan go ahead. Obi-Wan does so, tugging idly at his new set of robes as he goes. It always takes a few weeks for a new set of tunics and tabards to settle and stop itching – the synthwool is so stiff and coarse in the beginning.

He'd opted against a robe, for now – the weight made his back ache.

They walk the corridors of the Triumphant quietly, passing by many clones going about their duties – most of whom hesitate, give them double takes, and murmur to each other once they've passed. Obi-Wan tilts his head, sharpening his hearing with the Force and then smiles, embarrassed.

"I believe we've become the recent scuttlebutt," he comments.

Rex lets out a heavy sigh. "Sorry about that, sir," he says. "I wasn't discreet enough."

"To exercise discretion is to imply there is something to be discreet about," Obi-Wan comments, casting him a glance. "I doubt you're having any untoward intentions, Captain."

Rex looks startled at that, his steps actually faltering. Obi-Wan blinks at him interestedly and the clone captain says, very quickly, "Of course not, sir," and then looks away, scowling.

_ Oh_? Obi-Wan thinks and then looks ahead. There's a moment of quiet between them. "Give it a few days, and someone will embarrass themselves one way or the other, and people will forget."

"Here's hoping, sir," Rex says, coughing. "What's the word on the 212th, sir – do you know?"

Obi-Wan presses his lips together and looks down. The Negotiator is in dry dock going through repairs and inspections and the 212th are back in Kamino for training and to fill their ranks with new troopers. They'd lost… too many at Umbara. "It will be another month, I think," he says. "Cody is still looking for suitable replacements for the captains and lieutenants we lost."

"I'm sure he will find the best men possible," Rex says.

"I have no doubt," Obi-Wan agrees and glances at him. "But I dare say you and the Resolute will have to endure my oversight for a little while longer."

It, rather unintentionally, comes out suggestive, and Rex obviously hears it too because he looks away quickly, blinking rapidly. "I'm sure General Skywalker is delighted."

"I'm sure he isn't," Obi-Wan chuckles. "He's getting a little too independent to have his old Master watching him over his shoulder."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Rex asks and Obi-Wan nods. "I think I'm not alone in the 501st saying that sometimes General Skywalker could do with a little oversight – and the restraint that comes with it. Um – don't, don't tell him I said that, sir, please."

Obi-Wan grins. "Your secret is safe with me, Rex," he assures the man, and looks ahead as they step into the hangar bay. The shields have been opened and the ramps lowered – past them, Kiros opens up beautiful and verdantly green. Past the trees they can see the buildings, carefully situated amidst the forest rather than on top of it. The light in Kiros has a – warm quality to it, like the planet is in a perpetual state of dawn, or dusk. Already, the air in the hangar bay smells sweetly of woodlands and trees.

Obi-Wan had hoped, before the Separatists had attacked, that he would have time to explore even a small portion of Kiros. The planet adheres to ideals rare in the galaxy – art, peace, serenity, harmony with nature, pacifism. The planet itself, from what Obi-Wan had read, follows similar patterns – it has next to no predators and all the local fauna is remarkably tame. It seemed like an ideal place to rest, meditate, appreciate the beauty of life, the universe, the Force…

The Togrutas of Kiros are hurriedly returning home, some of them running out of the Triumphant, heedless of the clones trying to warn them about the destruction of the city awaiting them. There are already some clone troops in the city, it looks like – in a distance, Obi-Wan can see a transport flying over the city, marked with familiar blues. Anakin's forces are already doing their best, to aid the refugees in returning to their homes, their lives.

Rex stands beside Obi-Wan as the Jedi closes his eyes and breathes in slowly. _ Worth it_, Obi-Wan thinks. _ Has to be. _

He can hear Anakin in the distance, coordinating the clones, and Ahsoka is little ahead, she's carrying a Togruta child in her arms, trying to keep them from running away. Master Plo is not far either. They're doing what Jedi ought to do – helping people, bringing peace. Would that it could be always like this.

"Sir," Rex says quietly. "Look."

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and looks up to where he's pointing.

There's a pale Kiros bird, flying overhead.

* * *

Rex feels both intimately involved and weirdly removed from the work of getting the Togrutas resituated. Whether it's General Koon or Skywalker who arranges it aside, it looks like they will be grounded on Kiros for a while, a few days at least, helping the colonists recover from their ordeal – something they need and something Rex can't say he minds, but…

While his men are hard at work, helping the Torgutas clear their collapsed buildings and broken up streets, Rex hangs back with General Kenobi – who in turn gets chased away with shovels whenever he tries to take part in the work. Skywalker, it seems, has had words with the troops – and probably General Koon too, because the clones of the 104th seem to have infinite number of chairs to offer to General Kenobi.

"I'm not even that badly off, really," Kenobi mutters, a little resentful – not that it stops him from taking advantage of the downtime, wandering off to do his own thing, more often than not. And Rex, a little guiltily, follows, while his brothers toil at _ roadwork_.

At least the forests of Kiros aren't poisonous.

"These plants look familiar," Rex comments, just to say something, while Kenobi examines a bell-shaped flower with interest.

"Panspermia from Shili," Kenobi says, tracing the flower's stem. "Ahsoka's home world, you know. I believe she has similar looking plants in her cabin?"

"Could be, sir," Rex says, watching him. Kenobi looks happy as anything amongst the plants, but he's distracted – there's moments when he stares at nothing, lost in thought, drawing himself out of them with effort and moving to another plant, trying to fixate on them.

Rex doesn't know Kenobi well enough to pinpoint accurately the cause for it, but it doesn't take a Jedi to figure out what Kenobi is preoccupied with. Kadavo, Zygerria, Kiros, and the Senate's decision not to offer more than the bare minimum aid to the Togruta colonists. Helplessness, that's what it is.

Rex considers whether it's his place to say anything and then decides to take a leap. "The colonists here should be taught to defend themselves," he says. "So that they can look after themselves. It's – risky leaving them so… unprepared."

Kenobi hums in agreement. "Likely they will be," he agrees. "Certainly, if it's not in the orders of the company stationed here, I will make it so."

Rex nods slowly. It's said rather dismissively though. "You really don't think this place will be attacked again, do you?"

Kenobi glances at him and then hesitates. He moves on and Rex follows, until the Jedi finds a mossy bit of rock to sit on atop a small hill, overlooking the valley of the capital city of Kiros. There the silence stretches, and Rex releases a quiet, soundless breath. Alright then, he thinks and clasps his hands behind his back to keep from clenching them too obviously, wondering if he could apply for a shift change with Skywalker – get Kix to cover Kenobi for a while, maybe…

"No," the Jedi says finally. "I doubt it will be."

Rex stills at his side and then looks down on the Jedi, as Kenobi rubs at his side, making a pained face. "Sir?" he asks with concern.

"My ribs are still healing," Kenobi admits. "I think I might have broken one, back in Kadavo."

"Will your healing trances fix it, or do you need a medic?" Rex asks warily.

"Should be alright in a day or two," the Jedi admits with a sigh and then adds, ruefully, "a click hike might've been pushing it, though, this soon."

Rex eyes him dubiously and the Jedi offers him a wry, sheepish smile, shaking his head. Well, if Kenobi says he's fine for now… Rex is just glad he's in his own armour again, with communicator in place – if the man keels over, he can call for transport to haul him back.

"Why won't there be another attack?" Rex asks.

Kenobi lowers his hand on his knee, gripping the clean fabric of his trousers. "Repeated shows of power don't bring repeated results," he says. "Shock value only holds when something is _ shocking _ – do it again, and people will quickly start growing complacent."

Rex lowers his chin a little. "You think this was all for show?"

"Oh, not all of it," Kenobi admits, glancing at him. "The Zygerrians stood to benefit quite a deal from the whole thing. But beyond that… what was the point? What else, but to show Republic the nature of the Separatists?"

Rex frowns. "Some show, sir," he says grimly.

"Yes, it rather was," Kenobi agrees, sighing. "Sometimes I wonder if…" he trails away, biting his tongue and looking down, the skin around his eyes tight.

Rex considers the profile he makes, a strong Jedi sitting down, his neck bent low. There's a sheen of sweat in the back of his neck – not of exercise, Rex feels, but from the pain. Pushing it, indeed. Pushing it and, judging by the sound of it, having some doubts. Some… familiar sounding doubts.

"If there's a point to it, sir?" Rex asks. "I've wondered about it myself."

The Jedi sighs, bowing his head a little lower, falling quiet. Rex looks away and then takes off his helmet, holding it under his arm. They're quiet for a long time, until Kenobi finally lifts his head, running a hand through his hair.

"I suppose I am tired," the Jedi murmurs. "Should have gone back to bed. Left thinking for another day."

"Sometimes, sir, it's the thinking you do at a difficult time that opens your eyes," Rex says before he can think of it twice, and then almost bites his tongue.

Kenobi hums. "Perhaps," he agrees. "But it's… harder to be flexible about it. Be forgiving."

"The hell is there to forgive," Rex mutters. "The Separatists are _ scum _ for what they did, _ shabuire, _ all of them. There is no forgiveness for any of this. There's no justifying this."

Kenobi draws a slow breath and releases it, slower. "I don't mean the Separatists," he says quietly. "Though you are certainly not wrong, there, Captain. Some things are unforgivable."

Rex frowns and turns to face him. Kenobi looks up at him, smiling wearily – it doesn't reach his eyes.

_ It's the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved_, Rex hears in the back of his head, in his own voice, in his brothers' voices – in Slick's voice. It sounds even louder than before. Loud enough to make Rex wonder if the Jedi could hear it too.

Kenobi looks away, and Rex looks up, his heart pounding.

"Let's go back," Kenobi says, after a while, and they don't say a word on the way back.

* * *

Anakin compartmentalises. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way he's made through pretty much everything in his life, especially the war, putting things in little boxes inside his head and locking things away until he can deal with them – until he has space or need to switch them on.

Padmé is her own whole section in his mind. Ahsoka is another. And so, Anakin muses while watching his Master walk about the footpaths of a small garden, is Obi-Wan.

Right now Anakin has set aside the General and the Hero Without Fear and is rather enjoying being just a Jedi for a bit. The work of the city's restoration isn't something they can fully dedicate themselves to, but for a while they're rebuilding something that isn't a fortification or a battle station, for a while they're just doing good, normal work. Not galactically important work maybe, but – is a nice change of pace.

Anakin would think it would be good for Ahsoka to do something_ normal _ for a change, but when he'd honest about it, Ahsoka adjusts to almost everything with incredible ease – she's gone from a warrior to infiltrator to playing a slave to staging a rescue in the space of a week, and now she's helping the Togrutas pitch up tents and set up quick emergency supply lines like it's what she's been doing all her life.

The little one adjusts, Anakin thinks. It is so true that it feels like a proverb at this point. The flexibility of youth, maybe?

Anakin himself has a slightly harder time. Obi-Wan, for all his mastery of multiple variable situations, also seems to be having some difficulties, puttering about aimlessly, searching for something to do, grimacing whenever he's chased away from sites of manual labor. It's kind of amusing.

Would be more so, if Obi-Wan didn't seem so troubled.

"Well, they look cozy," a clone's voice murmurs not far from Anakin, who looks back at him. It's Echo, who is doing quick repairs on a broken power converter, trying to get the street lighting back online before night.

"They had a hard time at Kadavo," Anakin says. Hard time to the point where neither would admit how injured they really were. Rex seemed mostly fine, just mentally exhausted, and Obi-Wan would recover, so Anakin feels confident in not siccing Kix at them, but still. "They're both on light to no duty until I say so."

"Ah, yes, sir," Echo says and coughs. "I just mean they look – cosy. Sir."

Anakin frowns at the pointed tone while Fives elbows Echo pointedly and the clone looks away, elbowing him right back. 

Obi-Wan and Rex are walking close together, Rex with his helmet under his arm and Obi-Wan with his arm tucked under his elbow, other hand motioning as he talks. Rex is listening closely, his head inclined slightly. It looks like Obi-Wan is in a lecture mode, maybe explaining some seemingly useless facts about the planet, only… it's not quite right. Too serious by far, and Rex is interjecting with more than questions. They look really into whatever they're talking about.

It's not that Anakin hasn't seen Obi-Wan be friendly with the clones before, he's never anything but courteous with them… but this does seem different.

Anakin thinks of finding Rex is Obi-Wan's cabin, Obi-Wan in a bathrobe of all things, the whole thing looking ridiculously like something it couldn't be. It hadn't been, either, Anakin is sure of that, and yet, there they'd been, in Obi-Wan's cabin, together, for apparently the whole night.

And Rex had taken Obi-Wan's bed, too. Not an unusual thing on a battlefield, they all had shared bunks at one point or another, but this wasn't a field tent in an active warzone. It was Obi-Wan's cabin.

Anakin looks at them as they move on, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Obi-Wan better not steal Rex from us," he mutters.

Then he compartmentalises the whole thing in Obi-Wan's box, where Rex joins the likes of Satine Kryze – a thing not to be discussed with other Jedi, ever, but to be used to tease Obi-Wan about, absolutely.

"How's it coming along, Echo?" he asks, turning back to his men.

"Should have the street lights running in about half an hour, sir – granted that the generator is online by then," Echo reports.

"Right – I'll go have a look," Anakin says.

"Don't be gone too long, sir," Fives says and nods – not towards Obi-Wan and Rex, but a nearby square. The Togrutas are setting up tables, tents, strings of lights up there. "I think we're about to have a party."

Anakin looks the proceedings over. "Better be on our best behaviour, then – and get the power back on."

"Yes, sir."

Anakin nods and turns to head away, lifting his wrist to speak to his gauntlet comm. "Ahsoka, it looks like the Togrutas are planning festivities here, can you confirm?"

"Yes, Master," she agrees through the comms. "Governor Roshti wants to give his people something else to think about and to celebrate those who survived and remember those who didn't. Master Plo agrees that is not a bad idea, so as long as it doesn't hamper the recovery effort, and it doesn't seem to."

Anakin hums. "What's in the menu? Do the people here believe in the power of alcohol?"

"Oh yeah," Ahsoka laughs. "They're bringing out _ so many _ kegs."

"Great," Anakin sighs. "Thanks for the warning, Snips."

* * *

"Attention to all squads," Anakin's voice sounds in Rex's communicator. "It looks like the colonists are planning a little get together, to celebrate their survival and to remember who they lost. Now I don't have to tell you to put your best foot forward, but I will tell you to be polite. If we're invited, I want everyone to play nice. These people have gone through a lot, and we're not going to make things worse for them. And all squads taking part in the celebrations will have a designated driver – someone _ will _ stay sober to wrangle their squamates back home if and when necessary."

Plo's voice follows quickly after, saying, "All troopers off duty are invited, though due to the situation there is only a limited amount of food and refreshments available – portions will be limited to two drinks and one portion of food per participant. Be mindful of our hosts and their limited capabilities – do not converge in any one location in great numbers, but spread out. And beyond all – be kind and have fun."

Obi-Wan smiles a little as they hear cheers coming from around the city as the clones receive the news. Beside him, Rex lets out a sigh.

"Tomorrow is going to be hectic," he muses. "Cleaning _ that _ mess up. Do you think General Skywalker could extend my light duty period until after the party clean up?"

Obi-Wan chuckles. "I'm sure I can convince him I need your help a little longer," he muses. Anakin would certainly enjoy the moral superiority of being in the position of mother henning him for a change. "It's been a while since I've had the pleasure to attend a party that wasn't also a political function…"

"A much needed change, I'm sure," Rex comments, glancing at him.

"I'm certainly not going to turn it down," Obi-Wan says and spots a bench along the walkway, turning towards it. "Where were we?"

"Conscription, sir," Rex says, following him and, with only minor hesitation, sitting down beside him. "Which I have read about, military history was part of our education back in Kamino."

"I imagine it would be," Obi-Wan agrees. "It's something of a dirty word these days, very few worlds have involuntary, mandatory military conscription – few even have enlistment. I think before the war the percentage of planets with standing military beyond minor security forces was around 21 percent. Now it's at 54, of course, but the war has obviously changed things."

"And without us clones it would've been different," Rex says thoughtfully. "More worlds would have armies, probably, and there'd be bigger push for recruitment, for conscription."

"Likely so," Obi-Wan agrees. "Which can be as bad as good, it's difficult to tell because it never happened."

Rex is quiet for a moment, and Obi-Wan tilts his head to the wind, listening to the sounds it carries. Calls of Kiros birds and happy chatter of nearby clones, looking forward to a night of revelry.

"I have noticed, sir, that on many worlds the war seems – removed, somehow," Rex says then. "Like it's not really happening, not until it happens to _ them _ – like here. I don't think these people thought about it twice, before the Seppies came."

"They probably didn't," Obi-Wan agrees. "The number of systems actively taking part in and being affected by the war is actually very small, compared to the number of inhabited systems on both sides. Tens of thousands of systems, with less than a hundred battle zones, and thank the Force for that."

Rex frowns, looking away. "That's – a pretty great base for recruitment."

Obi-Wan tilts his head to his direction.

"Trillions and trillions of people in the galaxy," Rex comments. "If even a percentage of them chose to fight, even a _ fraction _ of a percentage… the army they'd make would easily outnumber the clone army. We're were only four million strong, at our most numerous."

"There's nothing _ little _ about that," Obi-Wan says quietly.

"The senate is always going on about the cost, how much our making and upkeep and training costs," Rex says distantly. "We only number in millions. Wouldn't be cheaper and more cost efficient to just… recruit? Even if they only got a smidge of the people available…"

Obi-Wan considers him, considers the arguments against it. Clone troopers are elite, the best of the best, and their training is _ almost mechanically _ perfect. A uniform, loyal army, all with the exact same base level of skills, it is… an extremely attractive concept, from the outside.

But you could train an army of natural born people to be up to 90 percent as good and efficient in one fifth, one _ tenth _ of the time it takes to grow a batch of clones – and at a fraction of the cost. And whatever efficiency would be lost would be _ easily _ outstripped by quantity. There are many senators and politicians who have ran the numbers and presented them to the Senate. At the cost of a single clone trooper, you could train up to ten natural borns, twenty, if you're really good at budgeting. Natural born army of recruited soldiers would be all around more efficient solution, monetarily.

But there would be another cost to it, which, with the clone army, isn't an issue. 

Obi-Wan looks out to the gardens and sighs. He doesn't want to say it, the implications are too vile, but, "If the Grand Armies of the Republic consisted of natural born recruits and conscripts, the war would very quickly become very personal to many people," he says quietly. "Clones… don't come with a sentimental human cost. Which makes this war emotionally cheaper than it otherwise would be… to some people."

Rex turns to look at him, frowning.

"Not a stance I personally hold," Obi-Wan adds quietly. "I hope you believe me on that."

"I – do," Rex says quietly. "But you still lead us to battle. You still fight this war."

"How could I not?" Obi-Wan asks and shakes his head. "I can't make decisions for the rest of the galaxy, but as long as they're sending you out there, I – and any Jedi worth their saber – will be right there, fighting with you. It's the least we can do."

Rex looks a little surprised at that, turning to look away sharply. 

"The way we came together, us Jedi and you clones, wasn't ideal. It's still not ideal," Obi-Wan admits quietly. "But here we are, and so we fight."

"And so we fight," Rex agrees, scowling at the trees. "But _ why_?"

Obi-Wan doesn't really have an answer for that.

Rex is quiet for a long moment, leaning his elbows on his knees, glaring at nothing. Obi-Wan leans his arm on the bench backrest, and watches the clone captain wrestle with his thoughts.

In the distance, there is music, gently carried by the warm winds – Togruta musicians, preparing for their party.

"Call me crazy," Rex says. "But sometimes it feels like there's someone behind this all. Like there's someone to blame for everything, someone I'm itching to shoot between the eyes."

Obi-Wan looks to the direction the music is coming from. "Very few things are that simple," he says. "But I don't think you're crazy either, Rex."

The captain looks at him, and Obi-Wan offers him a weary smile. "Looks like it's going to be a hell of a night," he comments.

"Yes, sir," Rex agrees watching him with deeply thoughtful and troubled look.

Obi-Wan looks away, at the party preparations, wistful for their apparent joviality. He would have to make an appearance, likely.

Well, a drink or two wouldn't go amiss.


	4. Chapter 4

The party of the Togrutas is not the most organised event Anakin has ever seen, but it's very… very heartfelt. There's enough emotion floating in the air to give him a headache, but they're better ones now. There's still pain, loss, horror, misery in there, but people are pushing it aside to laugh and drink and eat, to dance and sing, to celebrate their freedom. There's a sort of stubborn quality to it – like the colonists are _ rejecting _ the darkness of their experiences, where they can.

"What has occurred is terrible beyond reason, beyond sense," Governor Roshti says in his rather loose opening speech. "There is no reasoning with it, though I have no doubt many will try, as they should. But for now, we are free, we have survived, and we are home. Let's have it for home."

"For home!" everyone answers and then everyone drinks.

You get the impression that the people of Kiros aren't strangers to celebrations. Anakin hadn't had enough time to really study the colony, but considering their ideals of art, culture, pacifism, all the good things, they probably have a little bit of hedonism going on there, and good old-fashioned carousing. He can almost imagine what kind of festivals they held, just for the pleasure of holding festivals. This celebration is a little faltering, but the Togrutas throw themselves into it with fervour of well experienced party-goers, so… that's something.

It kind of makes the very idea of these people as slaves, broken and beaten and never able to celebrate anything again, all that much worse though.

"I've never been to Shili," Anakin says to Ahsoka, who is sitting beside him and enjoying a vibrantly red juice while around her people drink stronger beverages. "Are all your people like this?"

"No," she says, smiling. "My people are more or less like anyone else, I think. There are good ones and there are bad ones. Not that I know that much about them either, I haven't been back to my home world more than twice since Master Plo found me, but…" she shrugs. "Kiros is a bit special."

"Yeah," Anakin agrees, lifting his cup of the local berry wine. "Pity more worlds can't be like it."

Ahsoka turns to talk to Governor Roshti and his wife, asking about the type of art exhibitions they have, and Anakin lets his eyes wander.

There are men and women dancing, children running around with their parents casually following after, elderly sitting about enjoying cups of heated alcohol too strong for human consumption. Among them are the clones, moving about in small groups of two to four, keeping enough distance between each group not to overwhelm the locals with their numbers. Even while relaxing and at ease, they're heeding their Generals' orders with military precision.

Plo, who isn't capable of neither drinking or eating the local food, is regardless a bit of a star among the clones and the Togrutas both – he's gathered a group of them around himself, and, judging by his hand gestures, is telling them stories. Most of the clones around him are from his own fleet – and really, the 104th really are Plo Koon's biggest fans, aren't they? It's kind of… adorable.

501st are a little… less reserved and well behaved than the members of the 104th, Anakin notes ruefully. They look like they're enjoying themselves – some of them pretty loudly. Fives and Echo are arguing over something, pointing cups at each other while other clones laugh at them, and near the back Kix has been drawn into group of elderly Togrutas and is looking a little pained, while behind him Tup smothers his laughter at him. Probably awkward medical questions are being asked.

After Umbara, they really need to let loose, so Anakin privately forgives them whatever minor slips might happen tonight. So as long as they don't cause any permanent damage, anyway. Or permanent embarrassment. He'd sic Rex on them if they did – speaking of which…

Obi-Wan is walking under a string of lights and Rex is with him, walking close by. Obi-Wan is wearing a robe, semi-formal but also a little more casual than he's been in a while. It's almost weird to see him wearing robes and not a shred of armour on him. Rex is in uniform, rather than armour, and whereas usually he tends to be uncomfortable out of armour, now he doesn't seem to even notice.

Anakin looks at them over his cup's edge. Obi-Wan smiles at the scene Fives and Echo are making, and Rex is watching him, looking thoughtful and intent. When Echo calls to him, it almost looks like it takes effort for Rex to look away.

Anakin drains his cup and stands up. Fives, spotting him on the move, waves at him, and Anakin makes a quick hand signals, _ run interference, _ and _ Jaig Eyes_. Fives' eyebrows arch up and then he throws a sloppy salute, before turning to Rex with mischievous intent.

In no time at all the good captain has been swept away by the Domino Squad's argument, and while Obi-Wan chuckles after them, Anakin aims for him.

"There you are," he says, picking up a cup from the tray of a passing Togruta waiter and handing it over to Obi-Wan. "I was starting to think you were going to be a no show."

"I'd like to think I am fashionably late. As it is, I did little for the Togrutas," Obi-Wan says, gratefully accepting the cup. "You and Ahsoka are the heroes here. And Master Plo, of course. I only got myself captured."

"Twice, even," Anakin says and then grins. "Ha, how the tables turn. Now it is you who is the master of getting caught."

"Funny," Obi-Wan says, giving him a look, but smiling. He takes a drink, sighing appreciatively at the taste. "So, did we miss anything?"

"Oh, it's a _ we_, isn't it?" Anakin asks slyly and wraps an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, something which makes his former Master falter a little. "You seem to be enjoying my Captain's company, Obi-Wan – a little more than I thought you would."

"I have always respected Captain Rex, Anakin – why would that change suddenly?" Obi-Wan asks, shifting under his arm and giving him a look. "How much have you drank?"

"Like – a cup? It's really strong stuff though," Anakin says, and looks up at the sensation of someone giving him the _ eye._ It's Rex – the clone Captain is frowning at him over Echo's shoulder. "Huh," Anakin says and looks down at Obi-Wan. "What happened to you two in Kadavo? You've gotten cosy _ fast_."

"Joined hardship brings soldiers together, Anakin – it's a well-studied phenomenon," Obi-Wan says, bending a little under the weight of Anakin's arm. "Can you not?"

"No, see, he's _ glaring at me, _ " Anakin says, fascinated. "Obi-Wan, have you turned Rex against me? How _ could _you?"

"What – no. Anakin, stop it," Obi-Wan wrings himself away from under his arm and with a faintly uncomfortable look straightens his robes. "You almost made me spill my drink before I even got to enjoy it properly," he murmurs and takes another quick drink, glaring at Anakin. So now they're both glaring at him, Rex at a distance and Obi-Wan close up.

"I can't believe this," Anakin says, looking at Rex, who quickly looks away, and then at Obi-Wan, who rolls his eyes. It was a joke, right – it was a joke. Except, Obi-Wan is doing the thing he did with Satine, and. Oh man, _ seriously_? "Obi-Wan?"

"You're being ridiculous," Obi-Wan says and looks away. "Where is Ahsoka?"

"Talking with Roshti," Anakin says. "And you're not changing the subject."

"Yes, I am," Obi-Wan says calmly. "Behave yourself, Anakin. You have appearances to keep."

"Well, so do you," Anakin says, as the realisation of what he's actually… realising here settles in, and it starts to bloom into some sort of disbelieving outrage. Something that happened years ago when Obi-Wan was young, sure, that was whatever, he could buy it – but this is _ here and now _ and right in front of his eyes. Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi, is having, what…

_ An affair_?

It's ridiculous to even _ think _the words.

Obi-Wan walks away and towards the Governor's table, while Anakin is busy gaping at him and at his own thoughts, and by the Domino Squad Rex's eyes follow Anakin's Master as he goes. Whatever's going on there, it's definitely mutual.

"Oh man," Anakin murmurs. "Oh, _ wow._"

Has Obi-Wan – has _ Rex _ – ever even had a proper relationship? Rex is a clone with… really no social life outside the army, and Obi-Wan is a Jedi who's all but taken vows of _ chastity_, does either one of them actually have any experience? Oh, _ shavit _ – is he going to have to, somehow, give them the _ Talk_?

Anakin wavers a little at that utterly horrifying thought. Then he shudders.

Kriff, but Togrutas brew some strong wine.

* * *

"Soo, Captain," Fives says, grinning while someone puts a cup in Rex's hand and he's forcibly turned away for a private talk. "The General?"

"I – haven't even talked to General Skywalker in a few hours, did something happen?" Rex asks with dismay, intentionally misunderstanding.

Fives grins as their other brothers lean in, all of them all but leering at him. "Not the General I mean, _ vod,_" Fives says. "You and General Kenobi have been joined at the hip for a couple of days now, all friendly like."

"I bet you anything they just came from Kenobi's cabin too," Jesse says, grinning.

"Oh, that's a sucker bet," Echo says. "They _ definitely _did."

Rex grimaces and takes a drink. They had, actually – he'd helped Kenobi change the bacta patches on his back before the party, it had taken longer and proven messier than they'd expected. Not all of the cuts had closed up yet, and the old patches had been a pain to remove. It's why they were late and missed the start of the party.

"Well?" Fives asks. "It's not every day a clone bags a Jedi –"

"There's _ never _ been a day when clone's bagged a Jedi –" someone murmurs in the back.

"And we," Fives continues, ignoring them, "would like some details."

Rex gives them a glare. They're out of uniform, mostly – only Echo is wearing full cloth uniform, the rest have tunics and casual civilian shirts and jackets, who knows where they even got them – so Skywalker has probably officially given them time off. He can't really dress them down for insubordination, that'd contradict the General's orders, kriff it all. "You're out of line," he says, regardless.

"I'm not the one who's been frequenting a General's personal cabin," Fives grins and then nudges at him. "Hey, we're happy for you, proud – a little jealous maybe, but definitively approving of your prowess here –"

"Oh, shove it, Fives," Rex says and literally does shove him, getting Fives' arm off his shoulder. "The General didn't have an easy time on Kadavo, we had each other's backs, it was a _ shab tengaanar_, all around. You know how it is, after."

That dampens their fun a little – but not enough. Fives hums sympathetically and then leans in. "Get you nice and close to a fellow soldier, stuff like that," he says. "All_ intimate _ like."

"Alright, that's enough," Rex says, giving him a severe look. "Make all the fun you want, but don't sully the General's reputation. There's nothing going on, and I won't stand any insinuations that there is."

Except that there is _ something _ going on, and in the light of what had happened to brothers who had had similar thoughts Rex is having now, it might actually be worse than what they think. Rex is very aware of it – and so, he thinks, is Kenobi… probably more so than he is.

While the other clones give him varyingly amused and suspicious looks, Rex glances to see where Kenobi had gone – talking to Commander Tano, it looks like, and away from General Skywalker's heavy handed shows of camaraderie. Rex should possibly tell Skywalker about the state of General Kenobi's back – with how physically demonstrative Skywalker is, and how tight lipped Kenobi is about his injuries…

"Yeah, nothing's definitely going on there, nope," Echo murmurs, nudging at Jesse and grinning as Rex turns to look at them. Echo grins, unrepentant.

"You boys are obviously sprightly and energetic tonight," Rex says, warningly. "Didn't get enough work in today? Maybe a little more roadwork, first thing tomorrow, hm?"

Echo's grin widens. "General mandated morning off on the account of the party, sir. Sorry, no can do."

_ Shavit_.

"It's all in good fun, sir, no harm meant," Fives says, patting his shoulder and then grasping it to steer him. "How was it anyway, in Kadavo? We've heard some from the Togrutas, sounds like it was hell… but even Skywalker doesn't seem to know what happened to you and Kenobi."

Rex hums and lets himself be drawn away, and to a table, where he sits down, surrounded by members of his unit. "It was 'bout the same for us as it was for the Togrutas, I reckon. They were there longer than we, but the Zygerrians took especial interest in us."

"Kenobi was injured, wasn't he?" Jesse asks, folding his arms.

"Mmh," Rex answers and takes another drink. The wine is really sweet – and really strong, too, burning on the way down and warming him up quickly from the inside out. "I'm _ very _ glad the place got destroyed, I'll tell you that much," he adds and then clears his throat. "So, how goes the rebuilding here?"

"Not that much damage, thankfully – mostly it's just cleaning immediate rubble and fixing essential systems. Power, water, sanitation – we've got almost all the city back running," Fives reports. "Couple sectors are still cut off from water, but we should be able to fix it before we'll be heading out again."

"All things considered, there's not that much damage," Echo agrees. "Figure the Seppies were just, you know… after the people."

"Hm," Rex hums in answer, grimacing.

"I don't get why we can't just… go after them," someone in the back says – Tup, who is dragging a chair closer. "Zygerrians, I mean, why we can't just attack their rotten world and be done with the whole damn slave trade. Doesn't do anyone any good, does it?"

"I'm sure there are political reasons why not," Rex says, though who knows. There might not be – might be that people back at Coruscant just don't care. Most of the slaves in Zygerria seemed to be non-human. Togrutas, Twi'Leks, Mirialans, Wookies, other nonhumans. The Republic is heavily human-favouring, when it comes to… pretty much everything, actually.

The thought must show on his face, because the other clones exchange worried glances. "I'm sure it will be dealt with one day, somehow," Fives says.

"Or maybe they'll destroy themselves – system like that can't really work, it's too flawed," Tup says.

"One can hope," Rex says, shaking his head and lifts his cup. It's emptying fast. "I thought this party was about celebrating survival and whatnot. There's gotta be some better news around here. What have I missed?"

"Well," Fives says, leaning in and offering him a grin. "Kix is making _ fast friends _ with the local old folks…"

Rex listens with forced interest how Fives begins to detail the most recent gossip, most of which involves the troops interactions with the Togrutas. There had apparently been propositions and suggestions and a couple of culture clashes leading into awkward situations – not an unusual occurrences, when clones interact with natural-borns for extended periods of time.

Rex sips his sweet wine and then glances back over his shoulder, checking up on Kenobi. The Jedi is forcing himself to interact too, it looks like, listening to Commander Tano with an attentive, if somewhat forced, smile. Beside them, General Skywalker is drinking like his life depends on it, glaring at Kenobi, who periodically rolls his eyes at him. Not an unusual sight that, either.

Ignoring the glances and pointed looks he's being given by his brothers, Rex drains his cup and then watches how Tup reaches to refill it with the rest of his.

Eventually, rather soon probably, he would have to go back to his duties, leading the 501st under General Skywalker. And then… what? What would happen with all of this shab circling around in his head? What would happen with Kenobi, who seems to be having something of a crisis of faith, or… politics, or whatever. Then what?

Just forget it all, pretend they never had these thoughts?

* * *

Ahsoka carefully doesn't let what she's thinking to her face. Governor Roshti at her side is explaining the various annual celebrations of Kiros to Master Kenobi – who listens with marked, even pointed interest of a man both intending to remember every word and trying to distract himself. Master Skywalker, sitting on the other side of the table, is staring at him, looking thoughtful and a little bit disturbed.

It's about Master Kenobi and Captain Rex – the time they're spending together and the way they came to the party together. Anakin had assigned Rex temporarily to watch Obi-Wan, but… there's more going on there, obviously.

Ahsoka thinks to what master Plo said, sensing Rex in Master Kenobi's room – about how Master Kenobi dealing with things concerning Zygerria and Kadavo _ his own way_. It was, if not an implied approval, then definitely an acknowledgement that there was something going on there, that Plo knew there was something going on there, and he was intentionally ignoring it.

Not that Ahsoka wouldn't have been able to figure it out herself. Master Kenobi isn't being terribly subtle, and she's heard the scuttlebutt from the clones, Rex had been _ seen _ leaving Master Kenobi's room. It's not a difficult conclusion to draw – aside from the part where it's _ Master Kenobi _ and also kind of against the rules. Kind of.

Well, it's not forbidden… exactly. All species have their social needs, humans are very social creatures. But it's not exactly encouraged, either.

Ahsoka looks between her Master and her Master's Master and then takes a drink of her juice. Master Skywalker still looks shocked, which, considering he's _ secretly married, _ is a bit much, if understandable. Master Kenobi is looking mostly just tired.

Time to cut in between.

Ahsoka sets her cup down and decides, "I want to dance," before standing up and turning to her Master with intent.

"What? Oh no, I don't dance, Snips," Anakin says quickly, leaning back. "Ask some of the colonists, I bet they'd love to. Or the clones."

"It's the duty of the Master to lead, is it not?" she asks slyly. "And to teach. Considering all the political functions we go through, it's an important skill, isn't it? You wouldn't want to short-change me on training, would you?"

"It's also the duty of the master to know when their own skills aren't enough to aid their padawan," Anakin says, leaning even further back, close to tipping his chair over. "I'm sure there are thousands of better dancers here, I would just teach you bad habits. Dance with Obi-Wan, he's great at it."

"Don't bring me into this, Anakin," Matter Kenobi says, taking Ahsoka's vacated seat. "And it's unbecoming to lie to your padawan – I know you're an excellent dancer."

Ahsoka grins, and Anakin throws his master a betrayed look. "That settles it," Ahsoka says and grabs her master by the hand. "Come on, you. It's supposed to be a party, and you are entirely too gloomy."

"Ahsoka –" Anakin complains, but she ignores it, drawing him away and to the square where the Togrutas – and a few less skilled, but very enthusiastic clones – are dancing.

"This," Anakin says while Ahsoka grabs his hands to direct them where they should go, "is unbecoming of a Jedi Master."

"It's a _ party, _ Master," Ahsoka says pointedly. "So how about we party. Also, you're a Jedi _ Knight _ – aren't Knights supposed to be ridiculous?"

"No, that's the padawans – Knights are supposed to uphold the standards and traditions of the Jedi Order and act in a way suitable to their station – Ahsoka, what are you doing?"

"Dancing!" she says brightly, doing everything very intentionally wrong.

Anakin gives her a flat look and then, sighing, takes the lead. And yeah, of course he knows how to do it right. "You're up to something, little one," he says with a narrowed look. "Don't think you can get past me."

Ahsoka grins and then glances back at Master Kenobi. He looks a little more at ease now. "You were giving Obi-Wan the _ twitch_," she explains.

Anakin blinks and glances back at his Master too. "So I was," he mutters and then leans back to look at her. "You're becoming perceptive."

With a Master like him, she has to. Anakin Skywalker is very much a Jedi who led by example, not by words. "Is he alright?" Ahsoka asks quietly.

Anakin sighs, grasping her hand more securely. "I don't know," he says. "Whatever happened, I have no doubt Obi-Wan can overcome it, but… it definitely shook him. It shook us all, I think. I'm worried it's making him –" Anakin bites his lip.

Ahsoka gives him a frown. "Seek comfort where he shouldn't?" she asks, quoting crèche lessons almost verbatim. "Rex is a good man."

Anakin gives her a startled look at that and then groans. "_ Way _ too perceptive. You shouldn't be noticing these things, Snips, not for a few years at least."

"I'm not blind and I'm not dumb," Ahsoka says flatly. "And I've seen a lot of clones do it, after traumatic experiences –"

"Shavit, I need to talk to Rex about it, obviously you're seeing_ too much _ around here –"

"And I'm not sure how either of them could do better. They had a terrible experience together, shared traumas and all, and they're dealing with it, right? And Rex is not directly under Master Kenobi's command, so it's alright."

"You are not old enough for this conversation," Anakin mutters. "And neither am I, kriffit all…"

Ahsoka stomps his foot. "I've dealt with worse," she says firmly. "And I don't see the problem here."

Anakin hesitates at that and then sighs again. "I don't know, Snips, I guess I'm just worried."

Well, that's obvious. Ahsoka looks at him consideringly and then throws herself into dancing, with every intention of drawing her Master out of his head – because while he's worried about Obi-Wan, she's worried about_ him. _

And she does kind of want to see if she can make an embarrassment out of him on the dance floor while she's at it.

* * *

Obi-Wan gives the party all due courtesy and attention, making the necessary displays of enjoying himself. It is a fine gathering, heartfelt and sincere in a way many political balls and galas aren't – there's a genuineness to it, which more rehearsed and managed events often lack. Very few speeches, no calls for action, only few toasts and even those are mostly personal…

It's nice and he wishes he could enjoy it better. Sadly the injury, the morning's healing trance and the day's activities have drained him of his reserves and left him with little tolerance – the first cup he drinks goes directly to his head, and Obi-Wan had always been a bit of a maudlin drinker. It's why he generally uses the Force to dispel intoxication or sticks to milder stuff. The Kirosian wine is anything_ but _ mild, however, and its strength drags him straight down to instantly gloomy thoughts.

He looks at these people, these bright, innocent people who only wanted to be left alone to their peace and their art, and he keeps thinking that the war would chew them up just to prove a point. It almost already had. Give it a year, and Separatists might try again, just as a show of force, for no reason other than _ because_.

Which is no reason at all, it shouldn't be, it couldn't be... All things ought to have cause and effect, all decisions stemmed from _ reason _s, no matter how vile. There should be something someone got out of this, and he can't figure what, even now.

Rex theory of someone being at fault is such an attractive concept – to have someone manipulating everything, to have someone to _ blame _… it would be almost sweet.

It's too easy by far, though.

"Master Kenobi, you haven't said anything in a while – are you feeling alright?"

_ No, I feel like I'm drowning_, Obi-Wan thinks and smiles, "Lost in thought, I'm afraid, terribly sorry – what were you saying?"

"Only that I always thought Jedi were a sombre, serious brand of people," Governor Roshti says. "It lightens my spirit that it isn't so – your do know how to enjoy the little things in life."

Anakin and Ahsoka aren't so much dancing as they are wrestling on the dancefloor, looking like they're trying to push each other down. Obi-Wan coughs and smiles. "Even Jedi need to let loose every now and then – my apologies for them, they're both still rather young."

Too young, really.

"It is good that they feel free to express themselves. War, it seems, strips away many such freedoms," Roshti says sadly. "It is why our people established this colony, to be free to express ourselves regardless of this war and recent events. We only want to mind our own business."

_ Easy thing to do, when no one cared. Not so easy now that they do, _ Obi-Wan thinks and then, rather uncharitably, continues the thought right to, _ And how lucky it is that we care – what if we didn't, what would have happened to your people then? And what about all those people the Separatists are oppressing now, whom no one cares about because everyone minds their own business? What about them? _

Inaction is an action in its own right – neutrality is as much a political choice as pacifism is. Understandable in case such as Kiros, peaceful people with little means to offer others aid, but what of places like Mandalore? A powerful system with an incredible military history, also playing the neutral card.

_ This is unworthy of me, _Obi-Wan thinks, rubbing a hand over his forehead. The drink is blurring his thoughts together – he knows better than this. No one system is responsible, and natural systems are generally neutral for a good reason. Not all of it is because they are simply indifferent. Fighting always begets fighting… and yet, to stand by and do nothing while others suffer?

Like what he's doing, what they're all doing. Only they haven't, they've tried to do their best with the task they've been given, it's the least they can do, and what else could they do? And yet…

It's the _ least _ they can do.

"I fear I have to beg your leave, Governor," Obi-Wan says as his thoughts spin further and further into darkness. "I am feeling a little unwell."

"Should I call for a medic?" Governor Roshti asks with alarm.

"No, no, rest will set me right – I'm afraid the drink isn't agreeing with me. Please do not let me take away from the celebration – I sincerely wish you the best of nights…"

Obi-Wan somehow makes it back to _ the Triumphant _ without too many issues, waving to the clones and colonists he passes by until he's out of the main throng of the party. Approaching the colossal Star Destroyer where it's landed, just within the city limits, is something of a mind bending experience. A full kilometer and more in length, and the bridge standing at nearly 300 meters elevation, the ship rises above the city like a man-made mountain, casting a whole swathe of it in shadow.

It's rare to see one landed on a planet that isn't shipyard-equipped, Coruscant or Kamino. You can't land a Jedi cruiser without inevitably doing some damage to its hull integrity, their sheer mass works against them, so it's almost never done. Better by far too use landing ships and leave the cruisers on the orbit.

There was no way to unload nearly fifty thousand passengers easily or quickly with mere dropships though, so Plo had made the unenviable choice of damaging his own flagship cruiser by landing it. Obi-Wan likely would've done the same if it was his ship.

It's… startling to realise he misses _ the Negotiator_. He misses Cody and the 212th. Plo's clones leave nothing to be desired, and Rex is among the best if not _ the _ best, as is the 501st... but they're not _ his._

"_Shab_," Obi-Wan mutters, once he's through the long corridors and slow elevators and finally at his cabin. The mando'a swear doesn't quite have the right impact, so he tries again as he sinks to sit down on his bed, muttering, "_Karabast_," viciously.

Kadavo and Zygerria have thrown him off balance. He should do what Anakin does and just bottle these thoughts away, these awkward disjointed concerns he can't fully examine out of fear of them making too much sense. It would certainly be easier, just stamp it all down and pretend it isn't there.

In the end he sighs, kicks off his boots and shuffles back on the bed to sit in a lotus position, trying for a spot of meditation instead.

He's still trying when Rex comes.

"Er, General," the captain says, feeling a little soft around the edges with drink and fuzzy annoyance. "You left early."

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and looks at him. Rex looks a little flushed with drink, and Obi-Wan can feel it on him – he'd drank more than the two cup portion they'd been limited to. He also feels _ fondly exasperated _in the Force, which isn't entirely because of Obi-Wan. The other clones must have been urging him on.

"That's no reason for you to leave also, Captain," Obi-Wan says, smiling faintly. "I'm not likely to get into trouble in my own cabin. You should go back and have a lovely night."

"At the rate the others were refilling my cup, it wasn't going to be very lovely," Rex says, and his voice doesn't so much slur as it rumbles with his intoxication. "Doing their damndest to get me blackout drunk I think. No, thank you."

Obi-Wan smiles a little more sincerely at that. "No, I suppose we can't have that," he agrees quietly. "Unbecoming of a captain, being seen like that."

"Exactly," Rex rumbles, swaying a little and leaning into the doorframe. "You feeling alright?"

Obi-Wan considers deflecting, but… "A little out of sorts, I suppose," he admits. "And I'm not a terribly cheerful drunk by nature – I wouldn't want to bring the mood of the party down with me."

"Mmh. You usually drink like a sieve, thought – I've seen it, Skywalker _ hates _ you for it."

Obi-Wan smiles a little. "Usually I have the Force to burn through the alcohol faster," he admits.

Rex frowns at first and then looks satisfied. "So you _do_ _cheat. _Knew it."

Obi-Wan chuckles at that, shaking his head. "A little."

The clone captain watches him for a moment from the door, swaying forwards and then leaning back. "Should I leave you to it?" he asks and makes a wave at Obi-Wan's legs. "Meditation and all."

Yes, he should. "It doesn't seem to be working so well, right now," Obi-Wan admits and stretches out his legs with a sigh. "I think I will simply lay down for the night."

Rex hums, low in his throat, and hesitates, his eyes listing downward for a slow look. "Should I… go?"

The implication rests heavy in the air between them, and Obi-Wan stills in the middle of the act of getting up. He shouldn't. He can't. He _ shouldn't._

"I can't… tell you to," Obi-Wan says, awkward and clumsy as he tries to turn his tongue to convey the concept without actually saying it. "One way or the other, I can't tell you to. Do you understand?"

Rex frowns, gripping the doorframe, confused but oh so intent in his drunkenness. He doesn't answer immediately, thinking hard.

Slowly, Obi-Wan stands up and heads for the fresher, for his nightly ablutions. His hands shake a little, how odd, as he washes his face and brushes his teeth and as he cards his hands through his beard and hair. Rex had helped him freshen up before, but he still looks like a mess. Obi-Wan hasn't any beard wax at hand here, so it's gotten rather unruly. His hair is much the same, without his usual hygiene products – military issued soaps and shampoos are rather utilitarian and not ideal for maintaining any kind of style. Add to that how pale he is and how dark the circles under his eyes are, he's certainly not showing to his advantage.

… what in Force's name is he even thinking.

In the cabin a door closes and locks. Obi-Wan lifts his head and then, unable to stop himself, stretches out with his feelings.

Rex is still there. He's still in the cabin. And he's locked the door behind him.

Obi-Wan wipes his face dry, draws a slow breath to try and centre himself, and then steps out to join him.


	5. Chapter 5

Rex dreams rarely and usually it's of Kamino, of doing drills, going through the motions of training. Even after the years of war, Kamino still dominates his life as its longest part, and as such, it vies for most attention from his sleeping mind. Or at least, that's what he assumes. Dreams have never been a subject he's examined at length.

That morning, he dreams of Kamino too. Of the tube where he slept, how he laid there, staring at the arched length of it, imagining skies overhead instead, running through plans in his head, what he'd do once he was out there, once he was a proper trooper, a soldier. He'd never imagined his General, or his duties, just – situations. What would he do if he was defending a base under attack. What kind of attacks he'd launch in return.

Some clones made changes to their sleeping berths, finger painting on the walls, scratching marks on the metal with knives or whatever they happened to have on hand. There'd been four marks in Rex' berth. One of them was the word ALPHA carved near the bottom, hidden behind the corner of the mattress. Other was a five-pointed star, lopsided and circled around with a messy, overlapping circle. The third was a short line of words, _Shutter was here._ The last mark was Rex's own – four slashes and fifth across, a tally mark.

He can't for the life of him remember why he made it, though. Later he started making similar marks on his armour for all the clankers he shot – which was, by the end of the week, proven to be a stupid idea. If he kept at it, by the end of the month his armour would be more tally marks than paint. So he changed. One tally mark for every engagement. He's got too many of those too, now.

Rex dreams of running his fingers over the tally mark, and it's important he remembers why he made it, but he doesn't. He wakes up, memorising the feel of the cuts on the metal under his fingertips.

There's no sleeping tube – nor is there a bunk. He's sleeping in a bigger room, on a bigger bed – and he's not alone. As he faces the room at large, someone sleeps behind him, one arm thrown over Rex's waist, heavy and loose with sleep. There's a breath on his back, just between his shoulder blades, slow and steady. It's made the fabric of his shirt warm and damp there. Everything is quiet, bar from the breathing behind him and the hum of the air conditioning.

Rex's head is _pounding_, and for a moment his brain refuses to formulate a _thought,_ never mind a plan. He just lies there, under that bare arm, idly cataloguing sensations. His stomach feels – terrible. The headache is mostly concentrated in his forehead, and his eyes feel hot and dry. His mouth is dry too. Dehydration and a hangover. He's wearing clothes, though – well. Mostly. Sleeveless undershirt, underwear. He can feel another's feet against his own, their knees pushed slightly into the backs of his, their toes brushing against his heels.

Slowly, so very slowly, Rex looks over his shoulder and behind.

General Kenobi looks smaller in sleep – his shoulders are curled in, and he's tucked his chin down. It's much like how he slept in Kadavo – almost at a foetal position. Rex had thought it was for show then, making himself appear weaker and defeated, as if trying to protect his vulnerable belly – certainly it had pleased the Zygerrians, seeing him appear weak. But no, apparently that's just how Kenobi sleeps, all bunched up, hair sticking every which way, his breath gently ruffling the whiskers of his beard.

Rex turns back to look ahead and tries to search from his memory what happened last night. The party he remembers, the drinking… explains the hangover, damned Tup and Fives kept refilling his glass. He thinks they had ushered him to – yeah, they had. Someone had spotted Kenobi going, and Fives and the others had decided it was Rex's job to go after him.

He has a vague memory of talking with Kenobi, though he can't quite recall what about now. He'd decided not to leave. That had been important, somehow.

Running his tongue over his teeth and trying to swallow the taste of stale wine off his mouth, Rex considers his options. Then he looks down.

Kenobi's hand is resting on his side, fingers loose on his shirt. Rex can feel the weight in his muscles, it's been there for a while. It's not a tight hold, Rex could easily slip from under it.

He touches the sleep-lax hand and then, only half aware of what he's doing, he slowly slides his fingers between Kenobi's paler, slightly more slender ones, feeling the bones under the skin, the fine hairs on the back of the hand and the calluses on his palm as he curls his fingers slowly inward. Kenobi's hand twitches in answer, and he closes his fingers over Rex hand, sighing softly. Kenobi has fine hands – Coruscanti hands. Clean nails, pale – were it not for the war, there wouldn't be any calluses there, Rex is sure of that.

Kenobi's fingers are warm.

"Mmh," the man himself hums, shifting behind Rex. "Hey. Ah – good morning?"

Rex looks back. "I don't think it's morning yet."

The Jedi blinks at him sleepily, leaning back and turning to meet his eyes. "Rex," he says.

"Yes?"

Kenobi looks at him like he expects something, expects him to say something. Rex can almost imagine what – the situation is… a cliché, straight out of those terrible books Jesse reads. This is the part where regret and shouting comes, right? Rex can't remember, he's never been one for romance.

He holds onto Kenobi's hand and says nothing.

Slowly, Kenobi relaxes back down, laying his head on the pillow. There's a loose strand of hair on his forehead, falling to hang over his eyes. "Well," he says. "If it's not morning, yet."

"Mh," Rex agrees and slowly, daringly, pulls at Kenobi's hand, to wind it further around himself. Kenobi makes a sound, soft and quizzical, as Rex presses the man's hand to the middle of his chest, holding it tight. "It's not morning, yet," Rex murmurs, determined, and closes his eyes.

"Not yet," Kenobi whispers and presses his face against Rex's back and says nothing more.

* * *

Obi-Wan dozes for as long as his conscience lets him, drifting in and out of daydreams. Rex doesn't move much at all, and whether he sleeps or not is hard to say – the man feels determinedly calm and thoughtless, drifting, but it could be that he's just dozing off too. It's lovely, if also somewhat forced at moments.

They need to face this. Whatever _this_ is. It's certainly more than companionship now, even if they hadn't quite gotten to the physical aspect of it. It's certainly coming. And for once in his life, Obi-Wan feels absolutely no guilt for wanting it, even… looking forward to it.

Well, he muses, this is physical enough. Sleeping next to another, holding them, when there is space enough and beds enough to stay apart – choosing to share your most vulnerable moments with someone… that's something. How do clones feel about sleeping together? He's seen some of them sharing beds even outside needs demanding it, choosing it instead, and had very carefully not asked or questioned or even thought about it. What the clones choose to do together in their downtime is none of his business, so as long as it doesn't affect them in the field and he knows it doesn't, but… now he wonders.

Rex is still holding his hand against his chest, pressing Obi-Wan's fingers into the valley between well defined pectoral muscles. Through the thin fabric of his undershirt, Obi-Wan can feel the softness of his skin and the hardness of muscle and bone underneath. Can feel him breathing, steady rise and fall. Can feel his heart. It's undeniably intimate.

It's making Obi-Wan shudder somewhere deep within, a withered leaf in the hot wind, shaking back to life.

Rex's fingers curl against his, and Obi-Wan hums. Time to acknowledge they are here and doing this.

"I have been thinking," Rex says quietly, his voice a soft, sleepy rumble under Obi-Wan's fingers. "Don't think I can call you _sir_ anymore."

Obi-Wan lets out a surprised laugh at that. "No, I don't think that's suitable here," he agrees, shifting against Rex' back, to nudge his nose against the skin of his shoulder. "Out there, I'm afraid, it might be required."

Rex stills a little at that and then turns around. It's a most – enjoyable operation, to have his body shift against Obi-Wan's, the whole bed quaking under the weight, until the man is face to face with him. Then Obi-Wan can smell his breath.

His own is likely no better.

Rex is frowning, and Obi-Wan sighs. "I'm sorry, Rex. Should this… continue, it will not be easy."

"Not really thrilled about sneaking about like a pair of cadets up to no good," Rex mutters, leaning his elbow on the pillow, his head on his palm. "You're not my direct superior."

"We work together often enough that I might as well be," Obi-Wan says ruefully. "And 501st is part of the 7th Sky Corps, which I _am_ the High General of – which puts both Anakin and you under my authority. And as a Jedi, it's not like I can even have relationships of this nature. I think you know that."

"Tch." Rex answers, but it's without heat. His eyes are low lidded and gleam amber in the darkness – there's something new in them, something strange and thrilling. Want and desire, possibly, but there's something more. Independence, maybe. Rex is thinking of things, wanting things, that few clones dare to.

Obi-Wan reaches a hand to his face and strokes his finger along the lines of his cheek, where the frown on his face creases the skin. "Would that I could, my dear," Obi-Wan says regretfully. "I'd take you out openly, and show you things this dratted war tries so hard to make us forget. But I'm afraid as a Jedi I am not going to be much of a romantic partner."

"Hm, I'd like it - going out, being… normal," Rex says quietly, and puts his hand on Obi-Wan's, pressing his palm against his cheek. "I've been thinking about that. Jedi restrictions, military restrictions, the rules we live and die by," he murmurs and turns his chin a little, to press his lips on the side of Obi-Wan's thumb in half of a kiss. "You Jedi are conscripts in this war, aren't you? Neither of us had any choice. No clone and no Jedi did."

Obi-Wan swallows. "Some Jedi abstain, and they're allowed," he murmurs.

"Could the whole Order, or would there be repercussions? Could you? Could _Skywalker_?" Rex asks and frowns. "Commander Tano was a youngling when she was brought in. I never thought about it at the time, I was still too new to this myself, but now, in hindsight…"

Well, their pillow talk is going to be _marvellous,_ isn't it, Obi-Wan muses ruefully and strokes his thumb over Rex's lips.

"Clones can't abstain," Rex continues, frowning. "We refuse to follow orders and we get sent back to Kamino for re-conditioning. Or worse."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes at that and then presses his forehead against Rex's chest. There'd been a time when he'd naively thought that _re-conditioning_ meant they'd be found stations and work they would be better suited for, outside active battlefields. But it really doesn't.

"The clones are slaves and the Jedi are conscripts," Rex says darkly. "In light of that… _Obi-Wan_…"

Obi-Wan sighs and, morning breath be damned, reaches to kiss the clone for the very first time.

* * *

Anakin looks up from the missive as Obi-Wan enters the bridge, fully swathed in robes and cloaks and looking – and feeling – rather thoughtful. Rex is behind him, in full armour sans the helmet which he has under his arm, his face impassive.

Anakin, carefully, doesn't think about the rumours which _exploded_ over the party last night. "Bad news," he says. "They want the 501st back in Coruscant, post haste – and there's a private council missive for you, Obi-Wan, marked urgent."

"When did it arrive?" Obi-Wan asks, frowning.

"Just now, I was actually about to send for you," Anakin says – which is a flat out lie, he definitely wasn't about to send for Obi-Wan, not with – yeah. Just as well that Obi-Wan arrived himself, explaining why he'd waited would've been awkward. "The missive is on the table over there," Anakin says, and as Obi-Wan nods and goes to check it, Anakin looks at Rex.

Rex looks impassive. "General," he says, greeting. "I guess downtime is cancelled then?"

"I'm afraid so," Anakin agrees with a sigh – no one would be happy about it. He isn't either. "I was really looking forward to it. It's a day's trip to Coruscant, hopefully we can have the men on half duty in the meantime, give them time to recover from yesterday."

"Yes, sir. Should I go start corralling everyone into transports?"

Anakin considers him – still not so much as a bat of an eye from the man. "If you don't mind," Anakin says slowly, glancing at Obi-Wan who is sitting down to read through the missive. "I want boots off the ground in an hour."

"Yes, sir," Rex says, making a salute and turning to leave.

Anakin arches his brows at him, and then at Obi-Wan, who isn't looking. Damn, now he actually wants to ask. He can't tell if they're having an affair or if they're mortal enemies, all of a sudden. There was _zero_ warmth there, for a moment.

"Hm," Obi-Wan hums at the missive, frowning. "Were you given the reason for our recall?" he asks.

"A threat against the Chancellor," Anakin says, walking closer to him. "It's spooked the Senate and they want the 501st on the orbit, as if it will make a difference. Probably the more level headed senators want to use us to calm down the skittish ones. Could be a nice, quiet posting, politics aside. What did the Council have to say?"

Obi-Wan sighs and folds the missive before he can take a look at it. "A meeting," he says and smiles – it's not quick or genuine enough to hide how unhappy he is about it. "I was really looking forward to downtime as well."

"I bet," Anakin says before he can stop himself and then grimaces. "We should start making out way to a launch ship too."

"_The Triumphant_ is staying here, then?"

"Yeah – Master Plo is going to overlook the resettlement and the establishment of a ground defence base, all the good stuff," Anakin agrees and then leans onto the backrest of the chair Obi-Wan is sitting on. "You alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, a little warily.

"Doesn't feel like it, if I'm honest," Anakin says and then glances around to make sure no one is near enough to hear before pitching his voice low. "You and Rex seemed okay yesterday. Did you have a fight, or…"

Obi-Wan gives him a perturbed look. "You're really addressing this on the _bridge_ of another Jedi's cruiser?" he murmurs back.

Point, Anakin decides and straightens up. "Come on," he says. "We better go pay our respects to Master Plo and then I have a padawan to collect somewhere."

Obi-Wan stands up, agreeable and still looking a little troubled, and with a nod Anakin turns to the bridge crew. "It had been an honour, gentlemen, Admiral Vodessa. We'll be taking out leave. Good luck to you all out here, and may the Force be with you."

"Sir," _the Triumphant_'s Admiral nods and steps up to take charge.

Obi-Wan watches hum consideringly as they step out. "What?" Anakin asks.

"You've gotten good at command," Obi-Wan muses, smiling. "I still remember the time when you would've just slinked out and left me to pay our respects."

"Eh, it's the same spiel on every ship, loses its shine after a while," Anakin answers, though, yeah, he remembers. There was a time when all of this command business was so awkward and he never knew what to say to either the clones under them, or the officers in charge of those clones. Obi-Wan had been natural in those bits of respect, Anakin had picked it up from him, but at some point it stopped being him parroting what he'd heard Obi-Wan say, and started being just… a thing he himself did.

"We've gotten rather good at our job of late, haven't we?" Obi-Wan muses as they walk. "Commanding men, leading them to battle."

"Managing professional relationships?" Anakin asks. "You're in a gloomy mood."

"Not gloomy. Introspective," Obi-Wan muses and looks away.

That's not worrying at all, Anakin thinks with a bit of concern, and they're quiet all the way to finding Plo Koon, who is helping the clones and Togrutas carry out the last of the supplies from _the Triumphant_'s hangar bay and into the city.

"Master Plo," Anakin greets the Kel Dor. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take our leave of you – duty calls us back to Coruscant."

"So soon?" Plo asks, surprised. "One would think after events such as those of Kadavo and Zygerria you'd be allowed at least a few days to recover."

"There's rarely any rest for us, I'm afraid," Obi-Wan says ruefully.

"We're used to it, at this point," Anakin shrugs. "So, we're going to gather up the 501st and take our leave – anything you need from our end, before we do?"

"I wouldn't say no to a replacement of some parts, if you have spares," Plo admits, waving a clone over. "Kit here has the manifest. I'm afraid going so far above the intended passenger limit put something of a strain on the air filtration system, and the co2 scrubbers are almost shot – we burned through all our spares, to get everyone here."

Anakin accepts the manifest, glancing it over. _The Resolute_'s supplies were replenished just a month ago, they should have spares for everything. "I'll see having all of this sent over," he says. "See you kitted up properly. How bad was the hull damage on landing?"

"Only four percent – most of it's nothing we can't tend to ourselves," Plo promises.

They chat a moment longer, and then say goodbye to Plo and his crew, setting out to find Ahsoka instead. She's out in the city, helping the Togrutas clear up the aftermath of the party.

"Hello masters, good morning," she says. "Rex just informed everyone that it's boots off the ground in forty minutes – we're already being sent out?"

"Recalled, actually," Anakin says. "We're off to Coruscant as soon as possible. How go things here?"

"About as well as you can expect – the two drink limit probably did most good," Ahsoka says, amused as she looks around. "Governor Roshti expected us to find more passed out people, but it looks like most everyone made it back to their bunks alright, and there isn't even that much of a mess."

"Good to hear," Anakin says.

"How are _you_ feeling today, Master?" Ahsoka asks, slyly.

Anakin gives her a look. "I feel fine, thank you for asking," he says and then smirks a little. "Nothing a little morning healing trance doesn't take care off."

"Ugh, that's cheating," a vaguely green looking clone nearby murmurs.

Anakin grins at Ahsoka's disappointed look. "We're heading back to _the Resolute_ – do you want to catch a ride with us, Snips?"

"I want to go say goodbye to some friends I made yesterday first, and leave them my comm link."

"Well, be sure to catch one of the outgoing transports back to _the Resolute_, Snips, alright?" Anakin says. "We don't want to leave you behind."

He and Obi-Wan go to pay their respect to Governor Roshti, only to have the man's staff offer them apologies and regrets – the man is feeling poorly after the night and not up to receiving visitors. So, they leave their goodbyes, respects and regrets with the household staff and then head off again.

"So," Anakin says as they walk on open, empty Kirosian street, no one anywhere near to hear. "You and Rex? Everything okay?" he asks, carefully not thinking about all the ways it's not entirely okay, just as a mere concept.

Obi-Wan folds his hands into his sleeves and for the first time in a long while, he looks fully like a Jedi – and not a bit like a General. "Yes," he says. "But obviously also no."

Anakin looks at him and then turns to look ahead, guilty and a little jealous and a _lot_ sad. "Yeah," he agrees and coughs. "Um. Are you – are you going to, you know… see each other? More? I mean, like – that." Force, this is awkward.

Obi-Wan hums and looks up, at the warm hued sky above. "If I do, then I have a choice to make," he says distantly. "Don't I?"

Anakin blinks and looks at him. "Wait," he says quietly, thinking back, thinking to what Obi-Wan had once said to Satine Kryze, _had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order_. "Did… did Rex…?"

Obi-Wan looks at him and Anakin must've projected the thought because he seems to get it immediately. "Did he ask?" he answers. "Not in so many words."

Anakin gapes at him. He'd though – he'd though this thing with Obi-Wan and Rex, it was new, recent, just a – a fling type of thing. The whole Kadavo thing had thrown them together, gave them a shared experience, of course, that kind of stuff brings people together, but this… "Master…?"

Obi-Wan looks away, sighing.

"You… you'd leave for Rex?" Anakin asks, confused. "When he didn't even ask – you'd leave for him when you didn't for Satine?"

"The situation is very different," Obi-Wan murmurs. "Satine had freedoms and opportunities Rex… doesn't."

With that said, he shakes his head and continues forward, leaving Anakin staring after him in uncertain astonishment.

* * *

A couple of hours later they're well on the way, and while Anakin gets back into the swing of running his own ship and his own men, and Rex slips back to his position at Anakin's side, Obi-Wan retreats to his cabin on board of _the Resolute_. The officer cabins on board the Jedi Cruisers are more or less identical – even the floor plan is the same. Single room with a bed, a table, two chairs, a couple of closets for storage, and a personal fresher. Only difference is that on board _the Resolute_, Obi-Wan has his own _designated_ room, which he has even customised a little. Not to the extent of the General's cabin on board _the Negotiator_, maybe, but… his room on board _the Resolute_ is something of a home away from home.

The closet there is full of his own robes, soft with use, there is his armour – but the pieces he regularly wears to cover his upper body, and a full Jedi Armour he hasn't worn since the first few months of the war – one of the two sets he still maintains, other being on board _the Negotiator_. He also has various knickknacks here. A bowl of sand from Geonosis, a Crystal from Cristophis, a plant from Ryloh…

Sitting down on the low sitting chair by the table, Obi-Wan releases a slow sigh. He is – aware of Rex on board the ship. A tether of connection, of… attachment is already there. It would be simple to severe it, block it out, forget it – he'd done so before, whenever such connections had formed. But he doesn't. That thin bond is like a thread of solid silver, shining in the chaotic darkness of his mind, and he dares not to even _touch it_ for the fear of severing it.

It's been a long time since he's wanted such things. Satine was… one case, but vastly different from Rex. She was a thing of _strength_, a beautiful ideal, a sort of goal even. But she wasn't this. He had never any questions about whether he would make any true impact on her life, whether he could improve it. No, there was little he could add to her existence, only his companionship and his comfort, and even might only hinder her. She was very much set on her path, and her path was _great_, she would succeed with or without him. And she had.

Sometimes that had seemed a delightful thought – to be the trophy husband of the duchess of Mandalore, the _house husband_. He'd even imagined children, a time or two. Wouldn't that be lovely – and utterly ridiculous?

Rex is different. Rex's situation is different. It's… oh so vastly different.

Running a hand over his beard, Obi-Wan digs out the missive from the council from his robe's pocket and looks it over. It had summons for a meeting, a personal meeting, but Mace had also added a personal note on the bottom, coded and barely discernible. A warning, which with its very existence puts Obi-Wan on the edge.

There was a threat to the High Chancellor's life, an assassination plot – the Senate private police had unearthed hints of it, but could only figure out very little, only who was organising it, and they were impossible to get to. To that end, someone would have to go undercover – as an assassin. The council, at the recommendation by the High Chancellor, had decided that Obi-Wan was the ideal candidate, as he was enjoying downtime with his Battalion still out of commission.

Mace gave him heads up on it out of courtesy, and so that he could mentally prepare himself and formulate a plan – there would be no time for it, once they reached Coruscant.

Obi-Wan reads the missive twice to memorise it and then opens his palm and crushes the flimsy with the Force in his hand, compressing it into a crumpled ball and then, with another push, into a solid block of plastoid, melting under the pressure into a molten lump.

Then, dropping the lump on the table, he stands up and heads for the fresher, to wash and tend to his looks properly – it's been far too long since he's gotten the chance to trim his beard.

Rex has slipped into his rooms by the time he gets out of the fresher, beard freshly brushed and hair properly tamed – the captain sitting by the table, his helmet set on it beside the melted plastoid flimsy. It's not the only thing on the table.

"I'm on my lunch break," Rex explains quietly.

"I see," Obi-Wan says slowly, brushing a hand over his beard, enjoying how much smoother it is now, and peers at what Rex had brought. It's not much, a couple of servings of whatever they're having in the cafeteria, it looks like, and a bottle of Jogan fruit juice.

"Not as clandestine as you'd probably like, but –" Rex coughs, his knee bouncing. "I'm not much of spec ops."

"Oh, I don't know," Obi-Wan muses. "You do pretty well, going with Anakin's mad infiltration plans, from what I've seen."

"Yeah, and most of them end up involving jumping off buildings," Rex says with a wry smile and then looks down. "Everyone on board this ship already knows anyway, so I figured…"

"It's alright," Obi-Wan says and walks over, moving the other chair with a negligent use of the Force, and then sitting not across from Rex, but beside him. "I daresay I am going to need to enjoy this while I can."

"I'm sorry?" Rex asks with alarm.

Obi-Wan sighs and reaches for his hand, taking it in his. "I received a mission from the Jedi Order and from the Senate, which I fear might take me away for a while."

Rex looks at him with concern. "Is it dangerous?" he asks, winding his fingers through Obi-Wan's.

"When aren't they?" Obi-Wan murmurs and shakes his head. "I suppose it is left to be seen."

Rex considers him quietly and then looks down to their hands. He lifts it and presses a kiss on Obi-Wan's fingers. "Anything I can do?"

Obi-Wan looks at him, stroking the back of his forefinger over Rex's lips. "Maybe," he says. "Can you get in touch with Cody – in an unmonitored way?"

"… Maybe," Rex says slowly. "Are you going to need him on this mission?"

"Not necessarily. But I do want to warn him," Obi-Wan says and smiles. "I have a bad feeling about what's to come, and I worry it might reflect on the 212th. I don't want them to be caught unawares, but if I get in contact with them now, word might spread."

Rex frowns. "What are you planning, Obi-Wan?"

"I'm not planning anything, I'm just reacting now," Obi-Wan admits, looking at his face, following the lines of it with his eyes. Already, Rex looks dear to him. "But I expect the days to come aren't going to be easy, for any of us."


	6. Chapter 6

It was bound to happen, of course. Obi-Wan, General Kenobi, isn't really part of their Battalion – he's been a floater attached to Skywalker for a while, but it's not a permanent position, it was never going to be. He was always going to be called or ordered elsewhere. Rex knew it from the start. And yet somehow he didn't expect it, and it – grates, strangely, to not know where Kenobi is going, what his mission might be – when they might see each other again.

That, he supposes, is what you could expect, attaching yourself to a Jedi. They didn't really have any more freedoms than clones did – not where it mattered. Any moment orders from higher up could whisk them away. The last he sees of Obi-Wan is when he, General Skywalker and Commander Tano are taking a transport to the Jedi Temple, while the Resolute stays on orbit. He stays on board the ship, too, for now – to finish inspections, to do a count of the inventory, to use the opportunity to replenish everything they were lacking and had given to the Triumphant.

It still grates in a way he isn't used to, to not know. There are brothers who are used to it, clones who had formed attachments and relationships, whose duties then drew them away from those attachments... but Rex is… new to this. Maybe that's why things got so – so serious, so fast. His lack of experience.

For the first time in a long time, he thinks of Cut Lawquane, a clone who… via some terrible circumstances, deserted and ended up having a family on a little Outer Rim planet named Saleucami. Rex had met them early in his career, in one of the dozens of engagements they had with General Grievous – he'd ended up walking away from that interaction with a smallest of… infractions under his belt. He'd never reported Cut, though he should have. He never reported it, and instead carried away the memory, tucked away somewhere deep.

Cut had offered him a place to stay. To desert, like him. To have a family… like him.

_My family is out there_, Rex had said, and he'd meant it as much as he was capable back then. He was still so naïve. Now…

Rex works through his shift, inventories all their losses and expenditures – grimacing faintly at the numbers of clones they've lost in the last quarter – and then finishes his work for the day with quick random inspections of the troops, checking the sleeping quarters, the cafeteria, the rec rooms. Most everyone is still feeling the effects of the previous day – they got some shinies on board, last night would've been the first time they touched alcohol – but they're getting along fine and behaving themselves. Most of the brothers off duty are taking the time to do weapons maintenance and polish their armour.

"How are _you_ feeling, Captain?" Fives asks slyly, as Rex checks up on his squad. "Had a lovely time, hmm?"

"Out of line, Fives," Rex says, glancing at him. "Also, your bed's a mess, soldier. Straighten up those corners."

"Sir, yes, sir," Fives says, grinning and throws a lazy salute.

It's not the only insinuating comment Rex gets – there's a lot of elbowing and murmuring and grinning as he passes by. Rex shoulders it with as much grace as he can and doesn't engage. Not that it matters – someone had seen him enter and leave Kenobi's cabin for meals.

Nothing he can do about that, he decides, checks his chrono and clocks out for the day.

His own cabin feels... colder, now that he returns to it. He hasn't customised it much, just enough to have his maintenance kit out and a rack for his armour, to hang every piece up for the night. It's only a third the size of the officer's cabins – and though as the commander of the 501st he is allotted his own fresher, it too is much smaller than Kenobi's.

Rex goes through his clean up procedure – armour stripped, checked, inside cleaned and sanitised. He hasn't bothered with more than brushing the worst dirt off the outside for months now – his armour is scarred and dented enough that polishing it now would just make it look obscene, somehow. Weapon maintenance check next, he goes through his hand blasters, dismantles them, cleans and polishes them, and then puts them back together with fresh clips. Then he throws his body glove into the cleaning unit and heads for a wash.

After he's done cleaning up and has pulled on a fresh undersuit, Rex digs out a stripped down holoprojector from somewhere in his kit and sits down to record a message for Cody.

"Ni su'cuyi, vod," he says as opening to the recorder. "Su cyu-gar."

He has no idea what to say, now. Better cover the basics. "Kenobi says hi," Rex says. "Wanted me to send this message, actually – the Jedi Council is sending him on some di'kutla mission he's got a bad feeling about, wanted to warn you in case bad news got to you, I guess, and everything went to hell. So, don't panic, I suppose. I think he misses you."

He blows out a breath and leans back. "Been looking through our manifests," he murmurs. "Personnel lists, that sort of thing. We're starting to come up short on men – will probably have to come there to replenish at some point. Who knows, might see you there."

He stops there and runs a hand over his neck, sighing. Expendable, he keeps thinking. Just _expendable_, all of them. Crash one shipload of clones, and just go and get a new one. Lose men in battle; go back and replenish. Like they're so much ordnance, to be requisitioned. Spare clips of ammo to shoot at the enemy.

Shavit.

"Got a taste of nice natural born slavery, the other day," Rex says, distantly. "A diplomatic mission to Kiros to stop the colony from joining the Separatists turned into rescue mission after all the colonists were taken to Zygerria – long story short; slavery and your usual Skywalker brand of dealing with it. Funny how that always happens to us – diplomatic missions turning into battles. Anyway. Got captured with your General, we ended up at a… slave-re-conditioning facility, in Kadavo. Might've heard about it now – the 104th blew it up.

"Kenobi is fine," Rex adds quickly. "For the given value of fine. Nothing that bacta and time won't fix… outwardly," he leans back a little. "But what happened changed things. Opened his eyes. I'd call it battle shock, but it isn't. I think Kadavo is the grain of sand that broke the eopie's back there. We made it out, but… something's different. I think, in a good way."

Rex doesn't dare to say more than that. The rest was for Obi-Wan to say. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din," he says quietly and reaches to turn the recorder off. "Ret'urcye mhi, vod."

Now to find a clone about to be shipped back to Kamino to carry it back with them…

* * *

Obi-Wan feels tired before Mace and Yoda even pull him aside to tell him about his new mission. Going through the events of Kiros, Zygerria and Kadavo in a council report had reminded him of all the things that had happened, all the things he'd happily tried to forget in Rex' arms, and now he feels the sleepless days and the wounds still healing – his ribs still ache when he breathes too deeply.

He definitely hadn't gotten enough healing trance in. And certainly not enough of Rex's presence. Maybe he should've gone to the medics, after all – it might have allowed him some sick leave, which he fears now he could've sorely used.

"The situation with the High Chancellor is becoming critical," Mace says, frowning as they walk the empty corridors of the temple, Yoda hovering beside them on his chair. "Dooku has hired one of the best criminal minds out there to organise whatever it is he's planning, it sounds like – Moralo Eval."

"The name rings a bell," Obi-Wan agrees, trying not to sound too weary.

"We've known about him for decades and have never been able to do much about him, he's that good – has over half a hundred high profile heists, kidnappings and assassinations on his record," Mace agrees. "No Jedi or any law enforcement has gotten anywhere close to him – he simply vanishes."

"Therefore, the company he keeps we must send our operatives as," Yoda says grimly. "And believable make it we must. Call there is for bounty hunters and assassins, hiring them he is for this operation. A chance, the High Chancellor feels this is."

"So, someone has to go undercover as a bounty hunter or an assassin," Obi-Wan says. And that someone is him.

The two elder council members share a glance. "It would be… a bit suspect if Obi-Wan Kenobi vanished," Mace says slowly.

Yoda hums in agreement and looks at Obi-Wan. "No beating around the bush there is," he says. "Falsify your death we must – the credit of which to your new alter ego we will give. Select a human bounty hunter we will, hire them to kill you we will, and then their place you will take."

Obi-Wan just barely keeps on walking, instead of stopping in the middle of the corridor. "You want to… fake my death," he clarifies.

"The best special operations operatives in the Senate came up with the plan," Mace says with a shake of his head. "It's a solid plan – and it will give you freedoms you wouldn't probably have otherwise. No one will know the identity you will take, it will protect you – and protect you from censure."

Obi-Wan's mind refuses to formulate an answer to that. "Can I – think this over?" he asks.

"No time there is," Yoda says regretfully. "Soon, the call for bounty hunters opens, and the trials of Moralo Eval begin. Before that in place you must be."

Obi-Wan looks away. "I need to talk with," _Rex_ "Anakin about this."

The council members share a look. "The council feels," Mace says carefully, "that the best way to make this believable, is if… everything runs its course as if you died. Skywalker is a public figure, his reaction is going to be the best proof of your death we can give to people."

"Only we and the council will know," Yoda says, his ears drooping. "More secure this way it is."

Obi-Wan doesn't answer. He feels like he's standing on a needlepoint edge of a tower roof, about to plummet down. They want to fake his death. They want to _fake his death_ and _not let his closest ones know_. They want to make Anakin and Rex and _everyone_ think he died.

They want to erase him.

"I," Obi-Wan says, feeling a little dizzy. "I need to think about this."

"Obi-Wan," Mace says, short but not unsympathetic. "The council has been going over it, and I'm afraid it's the best plan. The mission is going to be difficult, but you are the best man for the job – it has to be you."

"Trust few we could with such mission," Yoda agrees. "Best option you are. Final the council's decision is."

"And here I thought I was in the council," Obi-Wan murmurs, lowering his gaze. He can see the reasoning, maybe, and he can tell by their demeanour that though that don't like it either, they have indeed considered other options and the conclusion was that this one was the best. Killing him was the best option.

The council's wisdom in such things was unparalleled.

And yet the council has first rejected Anakin. Council had approved Pong Krell as a Jedi master. The council had sent them to Kiros. The council had decided that Jedi would make the best – if not the only – possible Generals the Grand Army of the Republic could be expected to have. The council now sends younglings of Ahsoka's age to war.

It's the council that would punish him for his connection with Rex, now.

Yoda and Mace share another look, now starting to look concerned, as Obi-Wan falls quiet.

"An hour perhaps you can think of it," Yoda says. "Then plan we must on how proceed from here we will – and a suitable bounty hunter we must find."

_… to kill me_. "An hour," Obi-Wan says. An hour to think this over, an hour to… to formulate a plan. "Thank you."

* * *

Anakin is eyeing the schedule and wondering if he can sneak away to visit 500 Republica, when Yoda comes upon him and dashes all hope of easily sneaking away.

"Young Skywalker," the old Jedi master says. "Time do you have?"

"You know I'm twenty one already, I'm not that young anymore," Anakin says. "And yes, of course, I always have time for you, Master Yoda." Everyone did, and woe be them if they didn't.

"Hrm. All of you young are, in the eyes of an old Jedi," Yoda says, waving his gimmer stick threateningly. "And young even for human twenty one is. Get not ahead of yourself, young one – much you have yet to learn. Crouch down you should."

"Alright, alright," Anakin says and crouches down so that the old Jedi can climb up to his back. "You're not on your hover chair today?"

"On it I was, but leave it at the hall I did – warn people that I am coming it does," Yoda says and taps his shoulder. "And feel I do that run away you would have if heard me you had."

Anakin totally would have, yeah. "Never," he says, blinking innocently.

"Bah. Walk with me somewhere, you should. Questions I have, and answers you may provide."

"Well, that's a change of pace," Anakin mutters, but he can't help but feel a little proud. "What's up?"

"First, how young Ahsoka is?"

"Ahsoka is excellent. She's gone off to meet a former creche mate of hers, who's at the temple," Anakin says. "I gave her the rest of the day off, as it's been a while since we've been home."

"Hrm," Yoda says. "Sad it is that so often away you must be, but necessary it is. Unfortunately, one of our best Generals, you are."

"Unfortunately?" Anakin asks wryly. "That's nice."

Yoda whacks him on the side of the head with his stick, not hard, but definitely hard enough to be felt. "Unfortunate it is to put so many burdens on one so young, sad it is that spread these burdens out more we cannot. Seek not insults, young Skywalker, for find them you always will."

"Why is it that always when we talk, Master Yoda, I end up getting a lecture?"

"Perhaps lectures you need," Yoda says slyly. "Obi-Wan no longer gives them, I feel."

"Maybe he thinks I don't need them anymore," Anakin suggests just as slyly.

"Bah," Yoda answers, waving his stick threateningly past Anakin's ear.

Anakin hums, amused. "What was it you needed, Master Yoda?"

"Obi-Wan I wished to ask about," the old Master says. "Preoccupied he feels, distracted. Happen something more did in your mission, I feel. Something out of the report you left, hrm?"

"Er," Anakin says, feeling the minuscule weight of the old Jedi grow heavier along with the narrow, suspicious look he's being given. Shavit, Obi-Wan. Can't keep a secret, can he? "Well. He _was _captured by the Zygerrian slavers, and I think… I think there was torture."

"Oh," Yoda says, and his ears droop.

"He wouldn't tell me about it, but – I know he was injured," Anakin says. " If it had been serious, Obi-Wan would've gone to the medics, so I think it's just, you know… surface damage. I know the injuries were treated with bacta and he has been doing healing meditations – he should be fine. But it shook him."

"Hrhm," Yoda hums, lowering his eyes. "Grim are the times we live in, but suffer worse he has."

"Maybe," Anakin says, looking away. "But sometimes it's just… it comes to the last grain."

"Grain?" Yoda hums.

"Saying from Tatooine. Last grain that breaks the eopie's back," Anakin shrugs, and grins as Yoda quickly latches on tighter. "Doesn't matter if it's a small thing, or something the eopie's been able to carry before – if it's too much, it's too much." And Tatooine is _full_ of sand.

Just like this war is full of horrors.

"Think too far we have come?" Yoda asks quietly. "Strong your master is, young Skywalker. Been through a lot he has, and stronger for it he has grown."

"If it's the last grain, it's the last grain," Anakin says and looks away. It probably wasn't that. Probably. Though considering what happened after Kadavo, how quickly Obi-Wan and Rex had gotten so close, well… he can't deny that he's a little bit worried about his Master's mental wellbeing. Obi-Wan was moving too fast, and in a direction Anakin isn't sure he could have advised him in – not without giving away secrets of his own.

Secrets, which honestly are starting to weigh a little heavier, considering the secrets he knows about Obi-Wan now.

Anakin draws a breath and locks all that away – better not think about them, this close to Yoda. The Grandmaster might very well be able to pluck the thoughts from his mind. "If you ask me, Obi-Wan needs a holiday," he says. "A good long holiday where no one gives him as much as a shopping list to worry about. It would do him good."

Yoda's ears droop every more. "Afford it, we cannot," he mumbles and begins looking for a way down from Anakin's shoulder. "But your advice keep in mind I will. Thank you, Young Skywalker."

"Er. Any time," Anakin says and crouches back down. That was fast. "Anything else I can do?"

"Take care you must," Yoda says and waves his stick at him. "And meditate you should. Much emotion I sense in you."

"Yes, yes… as always," Anakin sighs and watches the old master hobble away. Well… whatever. Hopefully Obi-Wan knew what to do with that, and hopefully he wouldn't give himself away. Either way…

Looks like his plan of sneaking away to 500 Republica is still a go.

* * *

Rex wakes up with a start to the sound of his door opening and closing, and he's holding a blaster before he can think twice. "Sh," a familiar voice murmurs. "It's me."

Shuddering slightly, Rex turns around to face the room – and Obi-Wan, who is just waving the door shut behind him. "Aren't you supposed to be on the planet – at the Temple?" Rex asks, confused, as he relaxes his grip on the blaster and sets it back down on the dingy table he has in his room. "I'm pretty sure I saw you take off."

"You did – I slipped away, found a cargo ship bringing you supplies and snuck on board," Obi-Wan says.

Rex snorts, imagining it, Jedi sneaking on board one of their own ships. That's hilarious. "No, seriously," he says.

"No, seriously," Obi-Wan says, coming close. "I did. If you check on my locators, I'm still back at the Temple. Do you mind if I…?"

"Uh, no, of course not. You – snuck away – that's… okay," Rex says and then exhales in a sharp burst as Obi-Wan simply gets on the bed with him, lying down nearly on top of him, his weight coming down on Rex like heavy blanket. Not far off, with all the robes and cloaks and tabards present. "Hey," Rex says, fully awake now. "You're shaking."

"Just a little bit," Obi-Wan murmurs. "I did just sneak on board a highly guarded military cruiser. It was a little exciting."

"Yes, and a lot _dangerous_," Rex murmurs, wrapping his arms around the man. "What's wrong?"

Obi-Wan laughs and presses closer. "I don't know what _isn't_ anymore," he murmurs, his beard tickling the side of Rex's cheek. "I keep – I keep discovering new, terrible truths left and right. I keep looking at things normally so commonplace in my, in _our_ lives, and I only see increasing darkness. How far we've fallen, how dark our path has become – it's like blinders have been taken off and I keep _seeing_ everything in this new, terrible light…"

"Hey," Rex murmurs. "What happened? What did the Council do this time?"

"This time!" Obi-Wan says and laughs a little, lifting his head. "Was there a previous terrible thing I missed?"

"It's been a little this and little that, really," Rex says, regretting saying anything. As a clone he has a lot of grievances with the Jedi Council, more so of late now that he's thinking of things a bit more critically, but… Obi-Wan is a Jedi, he probably doesn't want to hear it. "Come on," Rex says. "What happened?"

Obi-Wan sighs and goes lax against it. "Cody once told me," he says quietly, "that taking a fellow clone's armour and wearing it as your own, it's a sort of… insult. Or privilege, depending on who does it. Even if they're dead, you shouldn't just pick up their armour and make it yours for no reason, because… that's their face."

"Yeah," Rex agrees, frowning. "Once you customise it, anyway. I mean… armour paint and body modifications are about the only way we can tell each other apart, without seeing call signs on helmet hud. It's definitely the only way natural borns can tell us apart."

"And if someone takes your armour, they take your _troan_, your _aliit_," Obi-Wan continues quietly, his eyes shut, his forehead creased in a frown. "And if you wear someone else's face… then you're less than a person yourself."

Rex swallows tightly. "The hell is the Council asking you to do?"

Obi-Wan sighs. "I shouldn't be here. If I went to anyone, I should have gone to Anakin first, hell, he was closer," he says. "But I kept thinking, if I went through with it and didn't tell you before, how would it feel for you? What would you think, of yourself, of me, of _us_? There is an _us_ now, yes?"

"Obi-Wan, I swear to that Force of yours, if you don't answer me..." Rex says in a growl. "What's going on?"

Obi-Wan looks at him and then lays his head on Rex's pillow. "They want to fake my death," he says. "So that I can take the place of a bounty hunter and go after a plot to kidnap or assassinate the High Chancellor, they don't know yet. But they don't want to take risks, so… they want to take my face. And make me wear another's. For… however long it will take."

Rex's eyes widen in the darkness of his cabin and he quickly props himself up on one elvow so that he can look down on the Jedi. "They kriffing _what_?" he demands.

"And they didn't want me to tell anyone," Obi-Wan muses. "You, Anakin, everyone, if their plans pan out, everyone but the Council will think I died – and in the meanwhile I will go on, masquerading as my own killer. Delightful, yes?"

"Not a word I'd use," Rex growls. "Who was the moron who came up with that plan?"

"Apparently some espionage experts in the High Chancellor's security," Obi-Wan says, and turns to lay on his back. "It is a… semi-solid plan, I have to admit," he muses. "And it would give my alter ego quite a bit of street credit, to be my killer. The assassin who took down Obi-Wan Kenobi, wouldn't that be something? Certainly enough to catch Dooku's eye."

"So it's Dooku behind this?" Rex asks. "The plot after the High Chancellor, whatever it is."

"Isn't he always?" Obi-Wan asks with a sigh. "And someone has to do something about it. Infiltration is the only way, with the Force I will certainly pass all potential tests of a sharpshooter and fighter…"

"You're not seriously thinking of going through with this," Rex says leaning over him.

Obi-Wan presses his lips together and checks his chrono. "I have… I think five more minutes before I have to run to catch down going transport, so that I will make it back to the Temple on time," he mutters. "This wasn't much of a courtesy visit, I'm afraid, damned transit time is too long."

"You could just stay here and not go back at all," Rex says, putting a hand on the mattress on the other side of the Jedi. "Just don't go back at all, and hang the Jedi High Council, how does that sound?"

"A bit like treason," Obi-Wan chuckles, lifting one hand to stroke along Rex' bare arm. "But also rather amusing. What should I do, hide under your bed?"

"I'm sure we could find a closet you could fit in," Rex says and leans down to rest his forehead on the Jedi's.

Obi-Wan's breath smells like fruit – he's eaten something. Thank Force for small mercies.

"You're not doing this, are you?" Rex asks. "After what we just went through, you're not letting them take your face. Right?"

Obi-Wan nudges his nose with his own, the whiskers of his beard and the strands of his hair tickling Rex's face. "I have been thinking of… increasingly terrible things," he admits. "I can't seem to stop now that I've started, I keep coming back to it. Did you know, I was the Jedi who discovered Kamino? I was the one who found you. All of you."

"Actually, I do know – Cody told me," Rex says quietly. "Considering that the Jedi Order commissioned us, it didn't make much sense at the time, if I'm honest."

"Sometimes I'm not sure we did," Obi-Wan murmurs and his hand trails up from Rex' arm, over his shoulder, to his neck, his other hand coming to match it on the other side. "I'm the one who found you, and because of me you were dragged to Geonosis, and into this war. And ever since then I've thought… after that, fighting by your side is the _least_ I can do."

Rex releases a slow breath. "I'm starting to think you're thinking too much," he mutters, resting his forehead heavier on his.

"The _least_ I can do," Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. "If that's the _least_… what's the most I could do?"

Rex lifts his head a little at that, wary, and in a quiet voice Obi-Wan tells him what he's going to do.

* * *

"Anakin," Padmé calls from outside the bedroom, bringing him out of his doze. "Anakin, are you awake? Anakin, you have to wake up, there's – check your comm, do you have any messages?"

"Wha?" Anakin asks, very intelligently, blinking his bleary eyes. He's sinking into Padmé's incredible, if a little too soft, mattress, and for a moment he's confused on whether he's sinking or floating. It's nice – everything is kind of nice, very nice. The air is warm and smells of her, his body is still thrumming with her touch, he's not expected back at the Temple until noon –

Then she throws a pillow at him and Anakin snaps awake. "I'm up, I'm up – what is it?

"Your comm is flashing – see if you have a message from Obi-Wan," Padmé says, and before he can even react to it, she reaches for his bracer and hands it over to him. "I'll be outside – " she says, starting to get up, and Anakin quickly snags a hold of her.

"Don't go," he says, still a little confused, but he can feel her alarm now. "What's wrong, Padmé? You're pale."

"There was something on the news – just. Please check your comm," she says with a deep breath. "Please, before you see the news."

Anakin frowns and sits up quickly, heedless of the fact that he's naked under the duvet. Then, still holding onto her so that she can't slip away so soon, he checks the comm.

There is one single message – from Obi-Wan.

"- _vit_ Anakin," his Master's voice comes through the comm, a little distorted, before a hologram asserts itself and he sees Obi-Wan, a small holographic version of him. He looks… different. He's out of robes and wearing only the under tunic, not his tabard, not even a shred of armour. He looks almost casual, except for the stressed expression on his face.

"Just what I need," the hologram of Obi-Wan mutters, looking away. "And why am I even bothering to be surprised that you'd be impossible to get a hold of right now?" the Jedi Master sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I can't wait to get properly in touch, message will have to do. I am meeting Master Yoda and Master Windu in…" he checks his chrono and grimaces, "just two minutes, so I have to make this brief."

While Anakin leans over the little hologram, Padmé searches the bedside table for the remote, and turns on the view screen on mute, quickly switching through channels. A wide-eyed news reporter comes on the screen, speaking rapidly into a thin microphone, while red text on the bottom of the screen slowly scrolls by, only the last words visible.

_…Jedi Order,_ and then on the other end, starting again, _General Obi-Wan…_

The image of Obi-Wan looks up, and somehow, even in the hologram, his eyes find Anakin's with unerring accuracy. "I am leaving, Anakin," he says. "By the time you get this message, I likely already have."

Anakin almost drops the comm unit and looks sharply up at the news report. Beside him, Padmé has turned her hand to grip his and, wide-eyed, together they watch the screen, as the text scrolls on the bottom.

_General Obi-Wan Kenobi of Grand Army of the Republic resigns his place in the Jedi Order._


	7. Chapter 7

Padmé looks over historical records while Anakin paces the length of her rooms, agitated and distraught. She's seen it before – he generally just needs time to sort through his feelings and thoughts and come to a conclusion there, so she doesn't try to stop him or talk to him, leaving him to it. It's when he sits down and gets gloomy that she needs to worry.

The records of the Jedi Order and their joint operations with the Senate and the Republic go back for generations, of course, but it's been only about thirty years that Jedi have been considered part of the government rather than an independent organisation. It was part of the confused reorganisations Chancellor Valorum tried to do, to patch up a failing budget and, privately, Padmé almost had to be impressed. It as an insidiously brilliant piece of small legislation. Jedi Order was already funded and overseen by the Republic Senate, so why not make it official?

They'd made what was essentially a religious order part of a secular government, turning the Jedi Order into a branch of the government – without any governmental power of its own. Jedi Order was essentially the law enforcement, investigation and peacekeeping arm of the Republic, only they didn't need to be paid, they didn't need health coverage, they didn't really even need _rights_. All the Republic had to do is cover their budget, which is small as annual budgets of governmental agencies go, and the Jedi Order worked, functionally, for them for free.

Brilliant, when you think about it coldly and in terms of the monetary benefit, never mind the sheer political power and influence it gave to the Republic to have Jedi Order at their beck and call. Terrible when you consider the traditional role of the Jedi as neutral negotiators and peacekeepers of the galaxy, free of bias or influence by outside forces.

The Jedi Order hasn't been neutral since before her birth. Somewhere along the way someone had put a leash on the Order, and Padmé isn't sure most people even know about it. It was Satine Kryze that had brought it to Padmé's attention – and what wouldn't she give, to talk to Satine about this now. With that leash they'd been chained to the military, and because the Jedi were in the military, the war had one hell of an endorsement.

There was a poll once, long since buried and forgotten, about the public stance on the war against the Confederacy of Independent systems. The startling majority of the people who answered it were of the mind that… _Well, the Jedi are in charge, right? So it has to be pretty important._ With the simple act of having the Jedi in charge, the war was given instant and near irrefutable justification. Because, after all… it's the Jedi. They're neutral in all things, so for them to take such a strong stance right from the start…

Padmé has… known about all of this, for a while. Her relationship with Anakin was against so many rules, so, she wanted to know what those rules were and how to deal with them, if it came down to it. That had led her down a path of side-research on how her husband's occupation actually worked – and how it _didn't_. So she has known that there are some inconsistencies and… and _incongruities_ to it. Turning religious order into governmental branch while denying it all the power and influence that position ought to allot…

But she doesn't think she's ever considered the full picture. Not until Obi-Wan Kenobi called her, an hour ago – unknowing of her husband's presence in the room.

"I can't believe this," Anakin murmurs. "I can't. You can't – if he comes here, he'll find out about us. Right?"

"Considering that he's left the Order, would it be such a bad thing?" Padmé asks, distracted.

Anakin glances at her and then sighs. "I don't get this, I don't – he's not thinking straight, he can't be. He has battle shock or something, he's not _thinking,_ he can't be, right? I mean, he wouldn't do this if he was thinking."

Padmé looks up and then lowers the datapad. "We don't actually know why he decided to resign," she comments. "Though the fact that he hasn't, as of yet anyway, resigned his position in the Grand Army is a little telling." As is the fact that he immediately reached out to a _politician_.

"Yeah, and what it's saying isn't good," Anakin says, stopping and folding his arms, thinking. "To leave behind the Order, the Code, everything he's lived his whole life for – but keep to the Military? Kriff, I can't even – I can't understand what he's thinking, at all."

Because he's thinking of it like a Jedi, likely, and not a politician, Padmé muses, watching him patiently.

"I should go talk to him," Anakin says finally. "See if I can talk sense to him."

"If I invite him here, that would be sooner rather than later," Padmé points out, and he throws her a near panicked look. Padmé smiles a little. "You could call him," she says. "I think he's probably waiting for you to."

Anakin slumps a little and takes out his holoprojector, looking down at it with a sort of trepidation, as if expecting it to turn into a mine. Then he squares his shoulders, goes to sit away from all the furniture – to keep it from being picked up by the scanner, likely – and makes the call.

Sometimes, how naïve Anakin can be in matters of politics makes Padmé a little guilty – how much he lets her see, never thinking twice of the power and advantage it might give her. But then, she's not sure he actually _understands_ the power he has, with his knowledge and connections and command…

Obi-Wan answers immediately, and even at a distance Padmé can see he looks relieved. "Anakin," he says. "Small mercies – I hoped you'd call instead of doing something drastic –"

"Obi-Wan, what are you thinking –"

"I tried to call, but you weren't answering – did you get my message?"

"Yes, I got it, and it wasn't _helpful_," Anakin snaps. "I got it just as the news started going off on about you leaving the Order – what are you _thinking_?!"

Padmé cranes her head a little. Anakin and the projector are a little distance away now, she can't quite tell the Jedi Master's expression, but he seems both tired and rejuvenated from how he'd looked in the previous message. "I am thinking I am quite done doing the very least I can," Obi-Wan says quietly. "Nor can I go down the path I now so dearly want to pursue, while also contributing to the system that would ruin it."

Padmé strokes a thoughtful finger over her lips as Anakin's back straightens. "You could," Anakin says, defensive and guilty. "If you just kept a low profile and didn't make it so kriffin _obvious_ –"

"I don't mean I am not capable, Anakin. I simply do not have the heart to," Obi-Wan says quietly. "I'd like to think I am not that big of a hypocrite."

Anakin bows his head. "Can't have water saved and your thirst quenched, huh," he says.

"Quite," Obi-Wan says quietly and then smiles. "I wish I had more time to warn you, but it rather came down to the wire. Are you alright?"

Anakin runs a hand over his face. "Well, it's not me who just left the Jedi Order. How did the news find out about it so fast anyway?"

"Oh, I had Dex spread the word," Obi-Wan says, utterly remorseless. "I wasn't about to give the High Council a chance to try and stall my departure, which they would have, indefinitely. It was the best way to make my resignation stick, even if it did lose me my hearth and home rather immediately."

"Oh my kriffin – you're _homeless_," Anakin says, flat, even as he glances at Padmé guiltily. "I can't believe this. You – do you even have a place to go? Anyone to take you in, do you have any idea what you – you don't even have any money, do you? What are you going to_ do_?"

"I'm sure I'll figure something out," Obi-Wan says with a twinkle in his eye, while Anakin proceeds to completely misunderstand _everything._ He thinks Obi-Wan had called Padmé for a place to stay in his time of need. But that wasn't it, not by a long shot.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, for all his objections, is also something of a politician at heart. You don't get the title of a Negotiator, without knowing well enough to navigate – and negotiate – those waters. He knows what he's become now.

Padmé hums. It's a pity, but she doesn't think she can take Obi-Wan in – should her and Anakin's relationship ever see the light of day, it would make everything dreadfully messy. But there are others… who could use a former Jedi Master in their midst.

* * *

The mood in the council chambers is sombre. They are still in something of a shock. Mace is too, and he'd felt something was coming. He'd sensed it – and ignored it.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was at a shatterpoint before they even brought the matter to him, and the council had pushed him too far. He should've taken heed of it, should've cautioned the High Council, but – the need had been great, they felt. And Obi-Wan Kenobi comes to a shatterpoint about once or twice a year, and he'd never been broken at it. If Qui-Gon Jinn's death didn't push him past the brink, nothing as small as an undercover mission would do it, right?

But then they'd said, _falsify your death we must,_ and the fractures of the shatterpoint begun to grow. When it had actually shattered, Mace didn't know, but the Obi-Wan Kenobi who faced them, an hour later, was a changed man.

"Set in our ways we have become," Yoda murmurs in his seat, glumly. "Too much we expect, I feel. Too far pushed things we have, I feel. Dark path we have started upon, and breaking under our feet it is."

"We've become comfortable, expecting the impossible from our members," Plo Koon agrees – attending as a hologram. "And it is not without a cause, I feel, but… perhaps a line has been crossed."

Mace hums, looking away. There's no way to pin the blame on the Jedi who'd just resigned, deserted – whose actions could even be considered treasonous. Obi-Wan Kenobi has been an exemplary Jedi, however, one of the Order's best masters, and its most dedicated General, there is not a single blemish on his record. He's a little brash at times and could be irreverent, but that had rarely, if ever, affected his performance. He was as close to _perfect_ as Jedi could get.

He'd been so sorry, too, when he'd resigned, sincerely and openly begrieved. One could take it as a failing, to show that much emotion, but the determination overrode them – Obi-Wan is on a new path now, sad to leave the old one behind, sad that it came down to it, but determined to proceed. Proceed where, though…

"This might cause a cascade effect," Ki Adi Mundi warns them, also in hologram form. "There has been unrest among the Jedi – if Obi-Wan Kenobi of _all of us_ can simply up and resign… others might follow his example."

"Keep them by force we cannot, involuntary the life of a Jedi cannot be," Yoda says, his ears drooping. "Sad it is, but should more wish to leave, let them go we must."

"While making all possible efforts to convince them otherwise," Mace says, looking up. "Obi-Wan is in a specially privileged position – he won't have much trouble finding a place to stay or something to do after this. There isn't a world that wouldn't take him. It won't be the same for our older padawans, or less skilled and less known knights – leaving will only put them at risk of abuse and misfortune."

"Unfortunate it is, that immediately we know the ones who seek to leave would," Yaddle says quietly. "That so many unhappy and discontent Jedi we all know."

It is – and they do. Mace can off hand think of… a good thirty Jedi who had along the course of this war approached him or some other in the Jedi High Council, expressing their unease and disquiet concerning the war. None had left, though, all could be talked over and subtly shifted to less stressful positions – the most notable being Shaak Ti, who came nearly to a shatterpoint herself, before Yoda had thought to send her to Kamino directly to oversee the young clones. Now she teeters on the edge, always, but holds on for the Clones' sake.

So far no one had walked out on them – and Mace feels it might be because… they didn't truly understand that they _could_.

Now, Obi-Wan Kenobi has walked out, and depending on what would happen to him, where he would land, what path he would take from here on out – and how successful and how public that path would be… others might very well follow his example. And likely be far less successful, doing it.

It would be easy to blame Obi-Wan for being thoughtless there, for not realising the impact his actions would have on the rest of the Order. The thing is…

Mace is fairly certain Kenobi knew _exactly_ what the impact would be. And he did it anyway. There was no vindictiveness in the action, no cruelty, he wasn't doing to get back on them for some slight they didn't yet know about – only determination of a man who thought he was doing the right thing.

And it's telling that none of them can say he wasn't.

"I cannot in good conscience let the people around me think I died," Kenobi had said. "I cannot be the cause of their grief. That is not the only reason I am doing it – but it is the last grain. Masters, I am sorry, but I _cannot _do this anymore."

Sometimes, Mace isn't sure how any of them can.

"We must prepare for the fallout," he says, running a hand over his forehead. "And the mission Obi-Wan was to attend must be settled."

"Call the special operations of the senate I will," Yoda says. "Visit them I might. Another plan we must come up with. Succeed at the mission no one but Master Kenobi would have – without him, the mission scrapped must be."

Mace glances at him, arching a single brow. He's not quite being honest, there are knights and masters who maybe could've done it… but Yoda says it with enough resolute factuality that it sounds right. Of course no one else could do it. Perhaps no one else would.

They'd already lost one of their masters at it. Better not risk anyone else.

* * *

Though Bail had seen the news, he hadn't had the time to do more than gape and then set it aside – he was on his way to a meeting and he was already short on time to make it, and couldn't let himself be distracted before fairly important committee discussion concerning a recently proposed change to the senate budgets.

There were a lot of changes to the senate budgets these days, and though this one wasn't as big as opening a whole new _military budget_ section, which had happened the year before… it was still notable. The senate was considering cutting funding to various government services - including to the Jedi Order's Education Corps, citing that their function and effectiveness of late was dwindling.

Which it _was_, naturally – half of the former educators of the EduCorps had become commanders in the war, they no longer had the time to teach. But one day…

_If I didn't know better, I'd say it's an intentional distraction_, Bail muses, checking his data pad for the highlights of the news report. They didn't actually know much, it looks like. Anonymous sources had confirmed, and the Jedi Order had yet to make a statement – which was a statement onto itself, these days. The war had made the news cycle _fast_, and for the Jedi Order to withhold a statement after the announcement like this to refute it… it's almost a confirmation.

Something else to look into, Bail thinks, and then looks up to the meeting hall he is approaching, and puts on his game face.

The committee meeting goes about as well as they always do. There are people arguing for, people arguing against, people trying to abstain from the discussion, and in the end, they've rolled the matter around like a ball between them, without a single impact made on it. Yes, the military needs more funding, yes, the military is important, but so is the EduCorps, they are in charge of over 21 percent of low-end education in the Outer Rim, bringing education to poor systems without the money to provide for it themselves, and no… they haven't been able to do that much since the start of the war.

Funny that, how war gets in the way of legitimate relief effort. Doesn't help that the poorer systems of the galaxy are turning either Separatists or Neutral, and with them goes the call for relief effort from the Jedi Order and those charitable organisations they work with, aid and fund, like the Education of the Galaxy Foundation, the Outer Rim Literacy Movement, the Classroom on Every Moon foundation…

Bail has a headache, and he kind of dreads the moment the budget scissors turn to the MediCorps. Can't cut off AgriCorps, of course, they provide the Clone Army with their rations, so they're safe, but with MediCorps would go everything _they_ were doing all across the galaxy, and at least so far MediCorps personnel hasn't been shuffled off to the army… much.

Not for the first time in his life, Bail privately curses the Jedi Order and its deep integration with the Galactic Republic Government. Dratted ancient Jedi building their colossal temples on Coruscant – Alderaan would have been a much better option.

Then he's getting a message on his private comm. Frowning, he glances the call signs, his eyebrows shooting up, pressing _hold call_ before quickly finding a private, non-monitored room to answer.

"General Kenobi," Bail says with some surprise as Obi-Wan Kenobi's image appears above the projector. "I – have to admit, I wouldn't have expected to be the first you'd call."

"You're the second, actually – fourth, if you include more personal calls," Obi-Wan admits with a smile. "I admit, I called Senator Amidala first – she suggested I call you instead."

"Well. With that kind of recommendation, I'm all ears, General – what can I do for you?" Bail asks, the grievances of the bad meeting evaporating as his interest is piqued. "Is the news report true?"

"Oh yes, quite true, I'm afraid. And as you might have guessed, it's also the reason I'm calling" the Jedi says somewhat ruefully. "I've worked two jobs these past few years, and now find myself out of one."

"Oh," Bail says, his eyes widening.

"Perhaps out of two, in fact," Obi-Wan muses. "My resignation puts my status as a General in something of a limbo, you understand – I'm not certain they have clearly ruled it for cases like this. Can I be a General without also being a Jedi? I haven't the faintest notion. Everyone is still calling me a general, but will I be let on the bridge of my Cruiser again is still anyone's guess."

"Hmm," Bail hums. "No one can deny that, Jedi or not, you are the best of our Generals. I'm not sure the Republic can _afford_ to lose you."

"That's kind of you to say – and also rather upsetting," Obi-Wan hums. "Either way, my friend – I'm at the risk of unemployment. I don't suppose you would have a use for a retired Jedi Master and possibly former General?"

Bail cannot even begin to imagine the things he could do with Obi-Wan Kenobi not just offering his approval – but _working for him_. "I think I can fit you into my staff, in one position or another," he says faintly. "You offered this to Padmé first?" he then clarified. "And she _declined_?"

"Surprised me also," Obi-Wan admits, amused. "But she said you could do more with me. I sensed some political machinations there, which are rather making me worry but…" he shrugs. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"My friend, if you put it out to the holonet that you were looking for a job," Bail says flatly. "There'd be approximately fifty thousand Republic planets looking to hire you to run their military, or their government. And that's without getting to the Council of Neutral Systems – or the Confederacy of Independent Systems. You, General Kenobi, are far from a beggar."

Obi-Wan blinks with some surprise and then smiles. "I think I am good with you, Senator Organa, if you will have me."

"Have you – hell. When can you _start_?"

* * *

"Commander? A delivery for you," an unknown clone says, brining Cody out of his perusal of the cadet performance reports. There's a trooper in 501st blues standing in front of him, with one arm in a sling – he must be one of the recent arrivals from the Core. Cody knew they were on the way, but he hadn't realised they'd already landed.

The clone from the 501st salutes somewhat haphazardly and then holds out the wrapped bundle at him. "Straight from Coruscant, sir," he says. "We're also carrying with us news, you might want to look into it – they involve your general, sir."

With that said, the unknown clone nods, turns, and limps away, towards another clone waiting by the door – keeping watch. Cody hums and looks down on the bundle he was given.

A stripped down holoprojector – everything that could ever connect to anything had been taken off it, along with all holonet connectivity. Looks like Rex' handiwork.

That's… probably not good.

"Captain, Lieutenant," Cody says to the other clones in the room. "Take a twenty and see if there's anything we can do for the boys from 501st – and if the news are bad, keep other 212th in check.

"Yes sir," the others say, and Cody waits for them to leave the room before moving into the blind spot in the room and then putting on his helmet. It takes a moment of fiddling to connect the projector into his helmet hud so that he can view the recording in perfect privacy, but though Rex is good with what he does, he's no tech clone. Couple of wires rerouted, and he has Rex' voice in his ear and his image on the hud.

It's… not much of a message, but it's enough to make Cody worry. Rex looks tired and weary in that aftermath-of-shaken, which Cody had seen on lot other clones plenty of times, but rarely on Rex. Whatever happened on Zygerria, it took a lot out of him. And General Kenobi…

Cody views the short message twice and then unhooks the projector from his helmet, hitting his comms. "Wooley, 501st say they're bringing an update about General Kenobi – you catch it yet?"

"Er," Wooley answers. "Yes, sir. I did. And, uh. _Shab_. Sir."

Wooley sends the news over – a single image, like it had been captured straight off a view screen. It showed an image of their General from early in the war, back when the Senate was pushing for propaganda and the General's face was on posters – how nostalgic it is to see him in near full armour like that. The image is completely secondary to the text on the screen.

_General Kenobi resigns from the Jedi Order._

Cody stares at the text, his mind drawing a blank for a moment. Then he hits his comm again. "Do we know anything more?"

"The injured 501sters barely caught the news before they hopped into hyperspace," Wooley answers. "I'm digging for more now, but it's not looking good – and the most recent news we have was from more than ten hours ago."

"So we don't know if it's accurate, or rumour someone blew out off portion?" Cody asks.

"I'll see if I can find out more, sir – but judging by what I've been getting off from the guys from the 501st, I have a feeling, sir, that it might not be complete nonsense," Wooley says. "You might want to come and hear it all first person, though."

Cody frowns a bit at that and then slides Rex' communicator into his belt holster. "I'll be right over."

He keeps his mind calm and doesn't give into speculation on his way over to the office where Wooley is stationed - though it's hard. The words seem to almost beat in the back of his head, demanding attention. _But what happened changed things. General Kenobi resigns from Jedi Order. Something's different. I think, in a good way._

There is a wounded clone from the 501st in Wooley's office, sitting with a braced leg stretched out on a bench while Wooley talks to someone over coms. "Commander," the clone on the bench says, saluting lazily. "CT-4426, Cheerly, sir. I'd get up but my knee is kind of – not there at the moment."

"Eat ease, soldier," Cody says, glancing at Wooley and making a custom hand signal for _Monitoring_? Wooley shakes his head and with a nod Cody turns to Cheerly. "I take it you have some news for me?"

"Well, it's news for _everyone_, especially in light of what General Kenobi did, if he really did resign from the Jedi Order," Cheerly says, shifting where he sits. "You know about our last mission? It's where I busted up my leg, on Kadavo."

"I – have heard something, yes," Cody says warily. "I also know our General was captured." Not exactly a new situation, for General Kenobi. "But that he was also rescued and will make a full recovery."

"Well, sure, yes. I mean, I hope he does and good luck to him, but that's kind of not the point here, sir. Er –" Cheerly hesitates, making a face. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"I'm fairly certain you're already doing so," Cody says wryly. "Permission granted, Cheerly – just make it brief."

Cheerly grins faintly and rubs at his leg. "You know our commander, Captain Rex, was captured with him? Your general I mean, you know that Rex was taken with him, right?" he asks.

"I heard about it, yes," Cody says, frowning.

"Well, they got friendly, while out there."

Cody blinks very slowly at that. "Friendly."

"Yeah," Cheerly says, grinning a little wider. "We – and I mean _everyone in 501st _here – are pretty sure they banged."

Now Cody does react, his breath coming out awkward mixture between cough and incredulous snort. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"They got _real_ friendly, sir, afterwards," Cheerly says, well… cheerfully. "Attached at the hip, like – where Kenobi went, Captain Rex was always there. And also he was sleeping in General Kenobi's cabin. And they had meals together, in private. Yeah, we're all pretty much sure they got together on Kadavo. _Together_ together."

Cody somehow manages to gape. "General Kenobi?" he asks, faint with incredulity.

"Yes, sir," Cheerly says, now starting to look a little worried. He glances as Wooley and frowns a little. "I mean – shavit," he mutters and runs a hand over his neck. "Should I have not told you this? Captain Rex always said you were one of the better ones, uh. Sir. _Shab_."

Cody stares at him for a moment and then also glances at Wooley – who shrugs his shoulders with a sort of incredulous disbelieving _what can you do_ way. Then Cody looks back at Cheerly. "So, what you are insinuating is that our General got involved with your Commander and due to this affair, he resigned from his post."

Cheerly shrugs awkwardly. "I mean. Yes? Sir."

Cody has no idea what to say to that. He has a whole litany of things and reactions at the ready for whatever nonsense Jedi get up to– particularly Skywalker and Kenobi together, since they have a tendency of making each other worse. He'd even prepared, if never with any pleasure, for the eventuality that his General went and got himself killed. But this… he didn't expect this.

Sure, Kenobi had always been more… open and emotionally expressive as Jedi go. Something which Cody always got the feeling was not entirely approved among the Jedi. There was Skywalker, to whom Cody's general gave all sorts of leeway to, and then there was the whole matter of Satine Kryze, which Cody had done his best to keep out of the scuttlebutt… but an affair with a clone?

Well, if it had to be someone, Rex is not the worst choice.

Running a hand over his face, Cody turns away, thinking hard. No mention as of yet of Kenobi's resignation from the Army, though if he left for Rex… shavit, Cody has no idea how the logic there works. Kenobi is still Rex' superior, as the High General of the 7th Sky Corps. If he still _is_ the High General, considering that all other High Generals are Jedi High Council members – something Kenobi couldn't be, if he wasn't even a Jedi anymore.

Hell, Cody didn't even know a Jedi could _stop_ being Jedi. He thought it was roughly like being a clone, but for natural born – not something you could exactly change. State of being, rather than mere occupation. It's not like they could hang their _Force_ at the door and become civilians, just like that. Right?

"Sir?" Wooley asks. "The word is going to spread, how am I going to spin it?"

Cody thinks fast and then nods, making his decision. He isn't sure he can fully grasp at the reasons for General Kenobi's actions, and, knowing his General, they are bound to be more complicated than he can guess. Either way… "Until we are told otherwise, General Kenobi is still our General, and we will proceed accordingly."

"Yes, sir," Wooley says, and turns to the comms while Cheerly lets out a relieved sigh and almost slumps over.

Cody looks away, drumming is fingers against his helmet, still thinking. "I think I need a transfer to Coruscant," he muses. "And the sooner the better."


	8. Chapter 8

"None of this is meant to reflect on you, either of you," Master Obi-Wan says, as Ahsoka and Master Skywalker walk him onto the landing pad. "I hope you know that."

Anakin doesn't answer, just grits his teeth, and Ahsoka slumps her shoulders. "I think I do," she says quietly. She's seen enough people making terrible decisions under enormous pressure, some of them good and some of them bad, to not take it personally. Master Obi-Wan's decisions were his own – none of them had influenced them, none of the Jedi. There was no one to blame but Obi-Wan himself and… Ahsoka couldn't do that.

"I guess I'm just – sad," Ahsoka says. "And I don't understand, but at the same time – maybe I do, I don't… I don't know. It just feels regrettable, all of it. And I wish you weren't leaving."

"Well, I will be only a hop and a skip away, really," Master Obi-Wan says. "Senator Organa is for now going to house me in his own apartments, out of courtesy to our history together, until I get my footing – it's less than a ten minute shuttle ride away."

"It's not the same, though, is it?" Ahsoka asks, hugging herself.

"It _isn't_ the same," Anakin grumbles, hiding his feelings in irritability. "Obi-Wan, you can't just –"

Master Obi-Wan waves a hand at him, stalling him before he can start arguing the same.

"… no, I suppose it isn't the same," he says says, apologetic, as they pause by the piers. The speeder isn't there yet, so he turns to face them, as Ahsoka comes to stand still as Anakin's side, and Anakin grips his hands behind his back. Even with his gloves on, Ahsoka can tell his hand would be white-knuckled, with how tightly he is gripping the mechanical one.

"I wish you wouldn't be so irritated with me, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, giving him an exasperated look. "I know you don't agree, but is it too much to ask an amiable goodbye?"

Anakin blows out a breath and shakes his head. "I know you think you have a reason to –"

"Anakin, please. We've been through this already, my decision is final," Obi-Wan says almost kindly. "I'm going. Please. Let me leave without making it an argument."

Anakin answers by throwing his hands up in the air in frustration and turning away – not leaving, but definitely not approving either. Obi-Wan smiles a little frustratedly at his back, and Ahsoka almost grimaces – she can only imagine what is going on in her master's mind. Her own regrets must be a mere shadow of his – Anakin, after all, shares some of Obi-Wan's motivations. Only he never left.

And, Ahsoka has to wonder, if he is now thinking about all the suffering he's gone through, and everything he has missed, by staying.

Master Obi-Wan turns to her, and Ahsoka lifts her chin, swallowing around the aching ball of grief in her throat. "I will see you again, both of you," Obi-Wan promises. "There is nothing in this universe that will stop me from keeping in touch. This is not the end of our connection – you are still the padawan of my padawan, Ahsoka Tano. And you are dear to me."

Ahsoka can feel her face twist, as she tries to stop herself from crying. "I am going to miss you, Master Obi-Wan," she says, choked. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't, I should – let it go into the Force, but –"

He chuckles and takes her hands in his. "I will miss you too," Obi-Wan says, squeezing gently. "And I will worry every day, more so than I have so far. Don't let Anakin drag you into too much trouble while I'm gone, alright? You're far more sensible than him, don't be afraid to show it."

"_Hah_," Anakin mutters, resentful.

"I'm not," Ahsoka says and drags in a breath, wet and shuddering. This is not the way a Jedi Padawan should act. "I wish you well, Master," she says and tries to master her expression. "May the Force be with you."

"You as well, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, then he embraces her, warm and strong – something he has never done before. It's… surprisingly nice. "The Force will be with you, young one," he says quietly, squeezing. "Always."

Ahsoka grips him right back, and it takes effort to release him, as the Senator's speeder comes to rest by the landing pad. Obi-Wan holds onto her shoulders a little while longer and then nods and turns to look at Anakin – who is standing sideways to them, teetering on the edge of leaving and staying.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, and when it only makes Ahsoka's master grit his teeth, he adds, softer, "_Ani_. Come now."

Anakin's shoulders slump and he sighs.

Then he grabs Obi-Wan into a tight embrace, so tight Ahsoka swears she can hear bones grinding. "Would serve you right if I put you in a choke hold and snapped cuffs on you and dragged you back, old man," Anakin mutters, twisting the back of Obi-Wan's coat in his fingers.

"You wouldn't," Obi-Wan laughs and holds him tight, patting his back amusedly. "It will be alright. You'll be alright."

"Forget alright, I'll be _great_," Anakin says, furious. "No longer having you around, holding me back."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, smothering a wet laugh, and with a choked chuckle of his own Obi-Wan pats Anakin's back again and then pulls back. "You have my comm link. You can call me any time," he says to them gently, looking between them. "I might not be able to answer right away, but I _will_ answer, always."

Anakin draws a breath and nods. "And you have ours. And you damn well better call."

Ahsoka nods, not trusting her voice.

Obi-Wan nods and then he bows, slowly, a proper Jedi bow. It takes a moment for Ahsoka to answer it in kind – Anakin doesn't even bother, staring at his master resolutely and refusing to bow down. He's all but glaring, which Ahsoka can't blame him for, but…

With a last fleeting smile at them, Master Obi-Wan turns to face the speeder waiting for him, and leaves them behind. Ahsoka grips her hands behind her back to stop herself from waving, and Anakin does the same thing, and together they watch the speeder go, until it's out of sight.

It's a long time before they leave the landing pad.

* * *

"I imagine it will be the very next thing discussed in the Senate," Bail says, as he and Obi-Wan take seats in the senator's living room, a protocol droid serving drinks. "Your status as a General and whether it is truly stringent upon you being a Jedi also. Do you think your resignation will put a strain between you and the other Generals?"

"Undoubtedly it will," Obi-Wan admits, nodding to the droid as she puts down a cup in front of him. He feels a little underdressed in the simple civilian's coat, the only reminder of his old Jedi clothes being his trousers and the under tunic which, thankfully, no one had wanted to take from him. He probably could've worn his tabard and cloak out of the Temple if he wanted to and no one would've stopped him, but it would have felt too much like hanging onto the Order, when it's not at all what he intends to do.

Bail doesn't seem to care about his state of dress though, thankfully. "It already is causing some tension," Obi-Wan says. "The Jedi of the Order – in and outside the High Council – are still deciding how they are going to handle my departure and what they actually, officially, feel about it. There might also be other Jedi who will begin consider similar avenues for themselves, which will make the overall reaction likely worse."

Bail pauses in the act of reaching for his own drink. "There are other Jedi who might resign?" he asks with some surprise.

"Unbeknownst to anyone, the Jedi aren't in general handling this war very well," Obi-Wan admits. "We're not soldiers nor are we built for war – we're peacekeepers, that's how we were taught and trained. This war became an antithesis the moment the first Battle of Geonosis begun, and we became the instigators of war instead. The are also… other reasons I have recently found to be more universal a concern than I thought."

Bail considers him, his eyes thoughtful and deeply concerned. "That's – disheartening news. I didn't know the Jedi Order felt that way, I didn't know there were any objections at all."

"That's because they were never publicised, acknowledged or acted upon," Obi-Wan says wryly and takes a drink. In the hours after his public resignation, no less than half a dozen Jedi he didn't know personally had approached him about their own personal grievances with the current state of the Jedi Order. It had been shy and tentative first, asking him why he resigned, was there a personal reason or was it something more… principled in nature.

Obi-Wan could have likely answered better, those first questions, but he thinks he nailed the matter on the head by the third time he was approached. His reasons for leaving were legion, but that was Rex, Anakin, history with Qui-Gon and even Dooku's presence in his tutelage lineage muddling things up. For most Jedi, it boiled down to two things. The war itself with its varied horrors… and the usage of the clones.

Bail watches him for a moment, stroking his hand over his goatee in deep thought. Then he too reaches for his drink. "Tell me, my friend – why a politician?"

"How do you mean?" Obi-Wan asks, glancing up.

"When one thinks of a _Jedi resigning_, it brings to mind – at least for me – some distant temple or forest moon where they could live a life in peaceful seclusion," Bail explains wryly. "You'd think Jedi would go for something peaceful, meditation, hermitage… No insult intended, but attaching yourself to any politician, especially one as controversial as Padmé Amidala or myself… I'm not sure it's very Jedi like."

Obi-Wan hums in agreement and lowers his glass. It isn't just the hectic, stressful nature of politics he means – to be a politician means to have some level of personal power and influence, too. That, Obi-Wan admits, is not Jedi like at all, to seek influence. "I'll be frank, Bail," Obi-Wan says. "I didn't leave the Jedi Order because I wanted to stop making a difference. I left it because I couldn't make big enough of a difference."

"You lead the strongest army in the galaxy," Bail points out.

"And I do as I am told," Obi-Wan says and leans back. "By the Senate. That's all Jedi can do in the current climate – as they are told. Our own power is very minor, we can choose how we go about an assignment or a mission, be it defence or outside invasion, but that's… it. The Senate chooses what we do, we can only choose how we do it."

Bail nods slowly in agreement. "That is how I see it as well," he says slowly, almost tentatively, eyeing him consideringly. "So what is it you want to make a difference with?"

Obi-Wan leans back. "Last year Padmé Amidala lead the movement to oppose the military budget and the creation of new clones – you were part of it," he says. "That's why I approached her first – tell me, what was the exact reason for that move? Just to put an end to the prolonging of the war?"

Bail hums and leans back a little. "That and more. This war is not only straining the Republic budget, it's twisting Republic law, it's alienating republic citizens and it's draining funding and importance away from essential services, which only alienates republic citizens more – sending them off to the arms of the Confederacy of Independent Systems or the Council of Neutral Systems," he harrumphs and shakes his head. "This war is bleeding us dry, it's weakening the very foundations of the Republic… and people want to keep it going instead of looking to end it. Trying to end the war – in any other way but a decisive victory – isn't even on the agenda for the Senate, as it is now. And I object to all of it."

Obi-Wan strokes a hand through his beard. It's more or less what he expected. It's also very much a politician's overall view of the situation – missing the trees for the forest. Not that he can blame Bail, these are the issues that would be considered in Senate…

But it makes him worry that his own goals might not even be feasible, in that kind of atmosphere.

Bail takes another drink and arches his brows at him. "Is that why you approached Padmé – to join our little coalition?"

"I suppose I was hoping to attach my agenda to yours – my issue seems related to your overarching goals," Obi-Wan muses, a little hesitant now. "There are… varied reasons why I resigned from the Jedi Order, and the ceaseless propagation of the war is an aspect of it. But the cause closest to my heart… is that of the Clone Armies of the Republic itself."

Bail hesitates at that, lowering his glass a little. "Please, elaborate," he says, noncommittal, but definitely interested.

So Obi-Wan does.

* * *

The word of Obi-Wan Kenobi's resignation from the Jedi Order circulates in the news ceaselessly for the next few days, leaving Rex in a state of constant anxiety. The only reason he's not stealing a skiff and flying down onto the planet to see the man is because Obi-Wan promised to keep him informed with a steady stream of secure holos, carried in the hands of incoming and outgoing clones who move between the Resolute on the orbit and the planet below. Still…

The moment Rex gets an excuse, he heads down on the planet. At this point it's kind of starting to feel like maybe General Skywalker is trying to keep him _off_ the planet anyway, saying _I need someone at the ship_ over and over, even though they have a very capable admiral and a whole slew of good command clones. As it is, as a commander in rank, Rex has some leeway in movement – and that small bit of freedom of choice of whether he stays on board the ship or the ground barracks during their time on orbit.

Skywalker isn't exactly thrilled to see him, making his next report in person, but he lets it go with a sigh. "Just – if you go see him… Try and keep a low profile," he says. "We've already got enough eyeballs on us, let's not invite any more, alright?"

"Sir," Rex says with a firm nod and then looks him over. "You alright, sir?" Skywalker is looking a little pale.

"The Council is holding a troop inspection of our own," Skywalker says, rolling his eyes. "Every Jedi is going through a psych evaluation, thanks to Obi-Wan – not that anyone admits it's because of him. It's not been a barrel of fun."

"… psych evals rarely are, sir," Rex says, now sincerely worried. "Does General Kenobi's decision reflect on you, sir?"

"A little, it's unavoidable," Skywalker says with a sigh and shakes his head. "He is my Master, after all, and we have been working closely in this war. Whatever triggered Obi-Wan's decision, they're worried I share it."

Well, doesn't he? Rex considers him thoughtfully, thinking of Senator Amidala and the best kept widest known secret of the 501st. "Sir…" Rex says, not sure what to say. "I'm – sorry."

Skywalker glances at him and then lets out a laugh. "It's not your fault, Rex," he says and relaxes a little. "Obi-Wan's decisions are his own, he made that clear anyway – whatever role you played in it, I don't blame you for it. I'm… actually kind of glad for you."

Rex presses his lips together to keep from saying his first choice of words at that. "It wasn't an easy decision for Obi-Wan," he says then, quietly. "He made it fast, but it wasn't without forethought – or without a plan."

"I have no doubt of that," Skywalker says and runs a hand through his hair. "It's giving all of us a hell of a time now, and I don't want to make it worse. Just keep a low profile for now, okay? I don't think he needs any more publicity right now."

That turns out to be an entirely moot point – no less than an hour after that Obi-Wan Kenobi is seen on the news again, caught on the street by a crowd of hungry reporters shoving microphones to his face. He's wearing a new set of robes – obviously Alderaanian in design, with high collars and long lines. Whoever dressed him put him in a similar light tone as your usual Jedi tunics, but the colour is subtly different – light blue, instead of earthly beige.

Rex's mouth goes a little dry at the sight of it – it looks like someone has veiled Obi-Wan in thinnest silk. It's beautiful – and utterly, completely lacking of anything remotely resembling protection. And as a _resigned_ Jedi he no longer has his lightsaber either. He's completely defenceless – and he's just standing there, out in the public on an open street, with half a hundred perfect sniper positions all around him.

The _idiot_.

"Master Kenobi – General Kenobi!" the reporters call eagerly. "Everyone is _dying_ to hear your reasons – why did you resign from the Jedi Order?" and "Was there a falling out with the Jedi High Council," and "What are you going to do now?" and strangest of all, "Who are you _wearing_?"

"Quiet, please," Obi-Wan says and holds out a hand to calm the crowd – and it works, of course it works, he's a Jedi, after all, and the move is _regal_ and commanding. "The cause for my resignation was largely personal in nature," he says. "There was no falling out, only a difference in moral choices. Currently my occupation is still under purview, whether I can continue as a General for the Grand Army of the Republic is left to be seen. And – I don't know what you mean by _who I am wearing_?"

Someone in the crowd laughs at his mildly concerned bafflement. "Your clothes, General – who made them?"

"Oh? Ah, then I believe Breha Organa designed this," Obi-Wan says and smiles. "Now excuse me, I have business in the…"

The rest of what he says is completely drowned by the shouting or reporters, and in the view screen the scene of Obi-Wan slipping away and into the Senate building plays out until the Senate guards begin barring the entrance from the reporters.

Rex runs a hand over his face. That was _completely_ deliberate. Obi-Wan could've taken a speeder to the landing platforms and never needed to deal with people on the ground, he could've done the whole thing without being so much as seen, never mind mobbed like that. He meant to get mobbed, meant to get on the news.

So Bail got on board with the plan then. Great.

Rex needs to get there and make sure Obi-Wan is at least wearing armour under that wispy nonsense he's wearing now, or Cody would have his _hide_.

* * *

Bail arches his brows a little. "I – what?"

"There is a clone captain calling, sir," the protocol droid says. "He calls himself Captain Rex and he says he is here to see General Kenobi. Should I send him away?"

Bail blinks and then gets up from behind his desk, heading for the living room. Obi-Wan is sitting there with a data pad in hand, looking rather resplendent in his new robes. They're not that elaborate as Alderaanian design goes, but compared to his previous Jedi tunics they're so much more intricate that on the former Jedi they look a little bit… _obscene._ And Obi-Wan is obviously enjoying the theatrics of them, if the way he's draped himself over the couch is any proof.

What a weird thing to think about a _Jedi._

"Obi-Wan, there's a clone captain here to see you – I think he's Skywalker's commander? Captain Rex?" Bail says, eyeing him curiously.

"Ah, yes," Obi-Wan says, hesitating and lowering the datapad. "If you mind his presence here, I can meet with him elsewhere."

Bail's brows arch. "I don't mind at all, there's certainly enough room – but I am curious," he says. "The first visitors I expected were more _Jedi_ in nature. Ignoring all the reporters, of course."

Obi-Wan coughs. "Well," he says, sheepish. "Rex is something of a special case."

Bail has the clone let in, and waits curiously to welcome him. The clone captain enters not in full armour, Bail is relieved to find, but in cloth uniform, grey, white and blue – the 501st colours, if Bail remembers correctly. He looks rather sharp.

"Sir, thank you for having me," the clone says briskly, even as his eyes scan the entry. "I'm here to see General Kenobi – I assume he's here?"

"Right this way, Captain," Bail says with increasing interest and leads the Captain to the living room where Obi-Wan is waiting – standing up, now, and if Bail didn't know any better, he'd say the General looks nervous.

The Captain pauses briefly to stare, looking up and down, while the General grips at the edges of his sleeves, almost _dithering_, as their eyes meet.

Bail's brows climb steadily higher.

"General," the Captain says.

"Captain," Obi-Wan answers, smiling a little, and then looks down at his light blue robes. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"Please tell me you have at least some armour under that," Captain Rex says, flat.

"I am afraid it would utterly ruin the cut of the robes," the General says, smiling a little wider. "I'll be sure to incorporate armour into future outfits, however."

"You had better. Sir."

They hesitate moment longer while Bail looks between them with growing suspicion. The Captain sends a glance in Bail's direction and coughs, awkward, and then the General gives up the pretense.

"Oh, come here," he says, holding out his hands and the Captain goes without further stalling – taking the hand and gripping it with an intent.

_Ah_, Bail thinks.

"I saw you on the news, down on the street level – without even a security detail," the Captain says lowly. "And I have a piece of my mind to give to you about it."

"I have no doubt. It was perfectly safe – I was within the Senate barriers," Obi-Wan says warmly, gazing at the clone fondly. "And I don't think anyone would go out of their way to shoot missiles at the Senate building just to get at me."

"You never know. We've made some powerful enemies," the Captain murmurs. "Please don't take any unnecessary risks while you're lacking security. Cody would kill me."

"Well, if _Cody_ would be displeased then of course I must take care," Obi-Wan says amusedly, leaning in a little. 

Bail coughs, and they quickly step apart. Bail offers them a smile, "I'll just leave you to talk," he says. "If you want any refreshments, B-1C0 is at your disposal. Obi-Wan," he nods to him and then to the embarrassed looking clone. "Captain."

"Thank you, Bail."

"Senator."

Bail backs away with a bow, though not quick enough to miss the way the Captain takes a pinch of Obi-Wan's robes in hand, feeling the fabric between his fingers, and how the General leans closer to him, smiling a soft, private smile at Rex.

_Well now_, Bail thinks, as he heads back to his office.. _that might explain something._ Not everything, there's certainly more going on with the General – but this is undoubtedly a factor. One he would need to tread around with caution, at that – should the press find out at an inopportune moment...

The Captain is still there when Bail emerges with messages sent and arrangements made – Rex and Obi-Wan are sitting in the living room, their heads together, taking quietly as Obi-Wan points something out on his datapad. The Captain's arm is around the General's shoulders – intimate in its casualness.

They look up at his arrival, and Captain Rex quickly makes to remove his hand.

"I think it's about dinner time," Bail says, smiling. "I'm assuming you wouldn't be interested in eating out, Obi-Wan?"

They'd planned for bits and pieces of publicity to introduce the public to the presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi in these select circles – but introducing him with his _clone lover…_ that would make a whole different impact than they'd planned. And not one Bail would personally choose to open with.

"No, I think not," Obi-Wan says regretfully. "I'm sorry, Bail – perhaps something here will suffice?"

"I will have something delivered, in that case," Bail says and puts in the order before joining the pair in the couches. "I got you an interview with the Coruscant Chronicler – Miss Salis was eager to run it at the time of your choosing, of course," he says and offers Obi-Wan his datapad. "Some topic suggestions – all questions will be preselected."

"Thank you, my friend – though I fear it might be a bit premature, with the hearing still pending," Obi-Wan comments, accepting the datapad.

Captain Rex looks at Bail and then puts on a determined look – and re-secures the arm around the General's shoulder. "Is there any way to predict how the hearing will go?" So Obi-Wan had told him about it.

"Well, considering everything that has been going on... I don't believe there's anything too bad to be worried about," Bail says looking between them. "General Kenobi has a great deal of good faith from numerous systems in the Republic, and he's well liked. There isn't precisely a rule that says our Generals must also be Jedi, it's a rather new development actually. But with the current political climate…"

"I wouldn't mind it terribly if I lost the position, it would open my time for other things and give me further freedoms – but inside the military I can still affect how it is run," Obi-Wan muses.

It also gives him a different kind of political power in their new war-based economy and politics. A very… old type of influence.

"All due respect, sir – the _army_ would mind if you lost your position," Captain Rex comments.

"Would they indeed?" Bail muses, looking at Obi-Wan consideringly.

The General smiles a little at that. "Well, in that case, I will have to try and keep it, don't I?"

_Interesting_, Bail thinks as a plan starts taking form in his head. _Very interesting indeed_.


	9. Chapter 9

Normally situations such as the one involving General Kenobi wouldn't be much of an ordeal. A small hearing with token personnel and enough members of the Galactic Republic Military Oversight Committee to make binding verdict and at most an hour of deliberation and the matter would be handled, one way or the other. Normally, of course, these things didn't actually involve… _ General Kenobi._

The hall – one of the minor committee halls in the Galactic Senate building, only equipped to handle fifty people at most – is packed to the point they can't close the doors, because there are people stuck in the doorways. Senator Aang supposes he should be flattered – though since the start of this war his position in the Galactic Senate has had a meteoric rise in popularity, he doesn't think he's quite ever packed the hall. But then, they aren't there for him, are they?

General Kenobi is early in the hall – and despite having arrived early, possibly before everyone but the minor juridical attendants who readied the hall… he's succeeded in making quite the entrance. He's dressed in the Grand Army of the Republic's rarely used _ dress uniform _ – lacking all indication of rank. A man of Kenobi's acclaim and reputation should have a bar of ribbons, and his rank clearly displayed on the uniform, and yet it's been stripped down to the bare essentials – the only thing his uniform shows… is that he serves in the Grand Army of the Republic.

But then, Jedi could not claim rewards, awards, or acclaims. They were, at the end of the day, still only Jedi. In that sense, Obi-Wan Kenobi could be thought to not have a claim to the uniform, either – he'd not signed up, there had been no basic military training, he didn't pass his tests or achieve his rank naturally…

Hm.

Senator Aang runs a hand over his face, while the room echoes with murmur of dozens of tightly packed viewers. Most of them are from the senate itself, and Senator Aang can recognise familiar faces – most notably, those of Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala. There are Jedi present as well – High Councillor Mace Windu is there, along with High Councillor Luminara Unduli. Jedi Knight and General Anakin Skywalker is also present, but in the spectator's area – not as an attending official. There are also others – including a representative of the High Chancellor, who has a hologram scanner aimed at the room.

Both Padmé Amidala and Bail Organa had tried to reach Aang before the hearing – and with obvious intent – so it's clear enough that they got fish in this pond. Kenobi's recent forays outside in decisively Alderaanian get ups are also telling. There are details, small and large, to be observed here, details which tell quite the story.

The clock ticks to the time for the meeting's start, and Aang's assistant stands and silences the hall with a call, "Session 462.1 of the Galactic Republic Military Committee of now in order, Senator Aang presiding."

It takes about a minute for the hall to quiet down, and in that minute Aang takes a stand and looks down at Kenobi, on the stand. Kenobi meets his eyes without hesitation, his hands clasped loose behind his back – he's standing at military attention, and it doesn't seem forced. Good man.

"Welcome all, including the exceedingly excessive number of spectators, to this meeting," Aang opens somewhat wryly. "I'm sure all here know what this is about, seeing as it has made the headlines for the past week or so… but we shall proceed along the procedure until the record is straight and has been written down accordingly."

He looks down on his notes, as if he even needs to check, feeling all the eyes on him – wondering idly how many there are and if they're posing something of an atmospheric hazard. The room is rated only for fifty people, hundred and more might put a strain on the CO2 scrubbers. Well, no matter…

"Seven days ago," Aang continues, enunciating carefully and speaking at a pace the recorders and translators could keep up with, "Obi-Wan Kenobi, our respondent, resigned his position in the Jedi Order, and along with it went his position in the Jedi High Council, naturally. As by the current model of our military establishment in the Galactic Republic, the Commanders and the Generals of the Grand Army of the Republic are by design Jedi, this makes his status and his position as the High General of the 7th Sky Corps a matter of contention."

Aang pauses and glances up. "And for the record and for those uninformed, the 7th Sky Corps consists of sixteen regiments, which in turn consist of sixteen companies each – a company being also known as a battalion, it depends on the specification of the said company. So, in total, 256 companies, each of which consists of 144 clone troopers, to the total sum of 36 846 soldiers under the umbrella of… the 7th Sky Corps. Under General Kenobi's purview also fall four Venator Class Star Destroyers, known colloquially as _ Jedi Cruisers,_ and a not inconsiderable number of small military vessels and vehicles."

The pauses for the murmur to rumble through the hall as the actual magnitude of the command under Obi-Wan Kenobi's purview becomes apparent to those who only knew him as _ General Kenobi who commands a bunch of clones._

While the chatter stalls the hearing, Senator Aang looks at the respondent, taking in his reaction. Whenever there is a hearing like this, involving high standing military official, he likes to list things under their power to see their reaction. Another trick he likes to use is listing their actual military accomplishments, to see the reaction to _ that._ You can tell quite a deal about a person by seeing how they react to having their power and influence flaunted. In Kenobi's case, if he started listing the man's battle accomplishments, triumphs and losses both, they'd be here all day.

Kenobi is calm, meets his eyes, stands at attention – he doesn't so much as lift his chin in pride, he just takes it, listening with very trooper like passive attention.

"Now," Aang continues once the murmuring quiets down. "We are not here to hash why you left the Jedi Order, that is not my purview – my purview is the military, and deciding whether or not you are still part of it. I am aware of your history and actions in the Grand Armies of the Republic, and I have a record of every major – and some minor – military decision you have made as part of the Grand Armies of the Republic. I also know something of their impact, on this war and on those worlds where your actions had... _ consequences._"

Kenobi only blinks at him, waiting still.

Wonder what would happen should he… push the matter.

"Fact to the matter is, you are not a soldier," Aang says, to which the room reacts more than Kenobi does. "You haven't so much as gone through basic training, your rank was handed to you on a silver, Senate-approved platter maybe… but you didn't earn it, fight for it, nor did you have any rank or acclaim before it. You were never a commander, a captain, you were never even a trooper – you were a Jedi and then you were a General. In terms of military rank… you were nothing, and then you were a General."

Barely a reaction even now, but Kenobi's eyes sharpen a little and he looks at him more intently. Around them the room murmurs in shock and even insult – and in some cases, glee.

Aang waits for the chatter to quiet down. "Tell me why you should get to keep your rank," he says and waves a hand. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you have the floor."

He sits down, crosses his arms, and looks at the respondent with as impassive an expression as he can manage. He's very keen on hearing the man's answer, though, very curious.

Kenobi keeps his posture, stays in attention. "Sir," he says. "If my record doesn't speak for itself, then I doubt anything I can say will speak for it," he says. "Whether I should keep my rank or not is not up to me, nor should it be. I serve the Republic. Whether the Republic wants me to serve it in a military position… that is up to the Republic to decide."

Aang leans back a little. The answer confuses some of the listeners and startles the others – and Senator Aang thinks he should be insulted by the implication that it's _ not _ his decision, which it by protocol should be. This isn't something the Republic votes on, matter of one man's rank is a minor thing – and Aang was voted into the position as the head of Military Oversight Committee and as the head he decides…

Except he doesn't. The _ committee _ decides. The committee _ is _ answerable to the Republic. And the _ Republic _…

Kenobi, it seems, has said all he had to say – he's simply waiting on the verdict now. Cheeky – usually a respondent's defence takes anywhere from minutes to hours as they bring up points and past commendations as proof of their worth. Kenobi didn't even take a minute for his defence.

One minute and an ultimatum. Negotiator indeed.

Aang considers him – there's a sly old bastard under that impassive look, it seems – and then looks at his fellow committee members. Most of them have figured it out and are starting to look concerned, others haven't. All of them look at him.

"This session will now go on recess," Aang decides. "The committee will deliberate on the matter – the session will resume in one hour."

And without question, for that one hour, the committee's decision would _ dominate _ the news cycle. 

* * *

It's officially not a celebration. Whether it has any cause to be is up for debate – there are certainly those who would oppose, those now complaining, the no doubt _ hundreds _ of people combing through Obi-Wan's military record for any sort of mistake. But dammit, it definitely looks like a party.

"To _ General _ Kenobi!" Padmé declares in toast and dozens of voices join her in it, most of them fellow politicians and senators, some of them just friends. Beside her Bail lifts his glass, looking clearly satisfied, and across from them Obi-Wan accepts the toast with a smile and lifts his own in thanks.

Anakin drinks, still a little perturbed on the inside. Beside him, Ahsoka claps with a grin, and on the other side Rex utterly fails to hide how proud – and _ besotted _ – he is. 

No one from Jedi High Council is there, Anakin isn't sure if they were invited or not. No one from the High Chancellor's staff is there either, though it might be that the event is overall too minor a thing for him to attend. But there are a _ lot _ of important people here, and there's a – vibration in the air, a feeling, a _ current, _which Anakin isn't sure about. It's like there's a swell under still waters, a breath of wind in still air, and Obi-Wan is at the centre of it.

It feels like there's a storm rising here, and Anakin doesn't know what to think about it. People here are way, way too excited about Obi-Wan – not for him,_ about him _ – and Anakin isn't even sure Obi-Wan knows them personally.

Also most of these people are from the Delegation of 2000, who's opposed the military budget last year, which makes the fact that they're thrilled about the_ rank of a military official _ that much weirder.

"I don't think you should be frowning at a party," Ahsoka murmurs at him.

"I don't like parties," Anakin murmurs back.

"Liar, you love parties. What's up?"

Anakin sighs. "I just – have a feeling."

"A bad feeling?"

"Disconcerting, worrying feeling," Anakin sighs. And it feels like just the start.

The party quickly breaks up into clusters of people chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Bail leads Obi-Wan from one group to the next, introducing him to people, it looks like. It's obvious Bail is up to something, all these people are. The connections being established are almost visible in the air, but if Obi-Wan feels the weight at all, he doesn't show it. Does he even realise? Bail Organa is one of the good ones, but it's clear that there's an agenda here – that he's aiming to use Obi-Wan to push it, somehow.

"Well, I think it's great that Master Obi-Wan gets to stay in the military," Ahsoka says firmly. "This way we will be able to work with him still and see him."

Anakin hums, noncommittal, not so sure about it. Jedi Order's stand on General Kenobi is a bit muddled at the moment – sure, they would get to work together, but whether the High Council would go out of their way to make it happen is another thing. Obi-Wan has become_ problematic _ for the Order. Plus…

He's not so sure Obi-Wan is going to be a… field work type of General anymore, looking at all of this.

Ahsoka harrumphs at him and then looks past him at Rex, dressed up to the nines in a dress uniform – the only man here who matches General Kenobi, fittingly and troublingly enough. "What do you think, Rex?"

"I think it's good as well, commander," Rex says firmly. "I think it's only right."

Anakin smothers a sigh. Is he the only one_ worried _ here?

"General Skywalker, yes?" a Herdesian in vivid blue robes asks, approaching them. "A pleasure – Shea Sadashassa, senator of Herdessa. You are General Kenobi's former student yes?"

"I was his padawan, yes," Anakin says, bracing himself for whatever's to come, good or bad. Herdesians are – abrupt and kind of demanding, and never easy to deal with.

"We all know how he is as a Negotiator, as a Jedi and as a General, but I am curious," Sadashassa says, humming. "How was he was a teacher? If it isn't too bold to ask."

"I – think he was a great mentor," Anakin says. "One of the strongest and wisest in the order."

"Yes, yes, very impressive, I'm sure," Sadashassa says making a dismissing motion with a single hand, almost _ a _ tapping sort of gesture. "But how was he as a _ teacher _? You can tell quite a deal about a person by how he teaches."

Anakin coughs, awkward. Obi-Wan was mostly an – awkward teacher actually. The way they'd come together, how young Obi-Wan was at the time, and how old Anakin was, it just made things awkward. In hindsight, Anakin can tell just how many mistakes were made back then. But… he can also tell how hard it was for Obi-Wan and how hard he tried – and it's not like bratty young Anakin Skywalker made it any easier for him.

"He's an – evolving teacher, adaptive," Anakin finally says. "Obi-Wan has only had one padawan, me, so I don't have much basis of comparison, but we were together for many years, and in that time he developed into a teacher I needed."

Sadashassa nods, humming. "Very interesting answer, very interesting – Captain," the Herdesian turns to Rex abruptly. "How is General Kenobi as a leader?"

"General Kenobi isn't my direct commander, General Skywalker is," Rex says promptly. "But 501st falls under the umbrella of the 7th Sky Corps, and as High General Kenobi is the best."

Sadashassa gives him an arched look. "You know him personally, else you wouldn't be here – how is he as a leader?"

Rex blinks and glances at Anakin uncertainty. "He's the best, sir."

The herdesian doesn't look pleased. "But personally, how do you find him as a leader?"

Rex frowns, hesitating.

"You might as well be honest, Rex," Anakin sighs. "I think Obi-Wan would prefer it."

Rex hums. "I think he's the best General we have," he says, after a moment and lifts his chin, his point made.

Annoyed, Senator Sadashassa throws hands in the air and marches off. Anakin snorts at that and then folds his arms while Ahsoka harrumphs. 

"Didn't even ask me," she says, disappointed.

Anakin casts a glance at Rex. "You could've done better than that."

"Not a politician, sir," Rex says flatly. "And I don't think I could've – not without going into a rant about him taking risks with his own life. He's still not wearing armour – or carrying weapons," he mutters.

"Ah," Anakin says, smiling a little.

Across the room, Obi-Wan finally turns to them and, with a quick word to Bail, heads their way.

"Someone's popular," Anakin comments.

"There's quite the turnout, isn't there?" Obi-Wan asks. "I'm afraid Bail and Padmé went rather overboard with the guest list."

"Congratulations, Master Obi-Wan," Ahsoka says with a smile. "I'm glad you got to keep your command and rank."

"So am I," Obi-Wan says with a smile. "And I'm glad you're here to celebrate it with us."

"Any idea what happens next, sir?" Rex asks – as if he isn't checking Obi-Wan out in his dress uniform. Now what they are standing side by side, the matching uniforms are really… noticeable.

"As of now, I'm keeping my status as the General of the 7th Sky Corps," Obi-Wan says. "Though Senator Aang and the Military Oversight Committee are still rehashing where my privileges and power as a General end and where the ones of a Jedi begin. The line has gotten somewhat blurred of late."

"Yes, it has," Anakin muses. "Does that mean you will have less power than Jedi High Generals?"

"It's something still left to be seen," Obi-Wan admits and smiles and snatches a drink from a passing waiter. "So, how are you enjoying the party?"

* * *

In a manner of speaking, Kenobi fulfilled his purpose. He's distracting everyone from the redrawn budgets and the reshuffling of funding away from civil services, so, in that sense he's played his designed role beautifully. In another… he woefully failed at it.

The matter of General Kenobi and his status within the Grand Army of the Republic had been dominating not only the news cycle but the discussion in the Senate itself – not quite the floor perhaps, but the boardrooms and corridors, halls and meeting rooms. The question on everyone's mind is… _ is this a chance? _

Chance for those advocating war to push for more. Chance for those opposing it to finally find fault in the military establishment. Those opposing the Jedi and those standing for them and their inclusion in the war are eagerly vying for a glimpse of Kenobi's goal, waiting to see which way the dice toss there fell, how they would take advantage of it. No one knows yet – only one thing is clear.

Kenobi's actions are undoubtedly political in nature. And for there to be politics, there must be a political agenda.

Palpatine turns to look at the window, watching the darkening skyline of Coruscant.

His plan – one of the several possibilities he'd planned for, anyway – was for Kenobi to die. Symbolically first and then, hopefully, in reality – at Anakin Skywalker's hand. The faked death so soon after in-depth experience at a slave world should have been enough to tip Anakin over in grief and anger to vengeance, and considering the usual level of the Jedi's planning, there would be fallout and there would be opportunities to go after the suspected killer. Succeed or not, Anakin would have fought his own master in _ rage, _ and it would have in the worst case scenario driven a wedge between them and in the best case scenario Obi-Wan Kenobi would have died, taking with him so many obstacles and hindrances.

Instead, Kenobi had rejected the mission outright and resigned his position as Jedi altogether.

Definitely not something Palpatine had planned for – and it presents some risks. But there is a chance he can still use the events to his advantage – to make an example out of Kenobi, to show the public the failings of their Jedi Generals by showcasing the one no longer under their protection…

There's a sound at his desk, the intercom. "I believe I said I am not to be disturbed at this moment," Palpatine says without looking back, the Force caring his voice.

"Yes sir, except if it's General Skywalker, and he's here to see you. Should I send him away?" His assistant asks.

Palpatine hesitates – the boy always has the best and worst timing. "No, send him in," he says and turns away from the window. "Ah, Anakin," he greets the Jedi warmly. "It's good to see you, my boy."

"Chancellor," Anakin says, just as warmly. "I was just at 500 Republica and it occurred to me I haven't had the opportunity to talk with you in a while – do you have a moment?"

"As it so happens, I do – do come in," Palpatine says and goes to sit behind his desk. "The Jedi Order have had some interesting times of late, with this matter of General Kenobi. How are you handling it, dear boy?"

"It's fine, mostly. Not thrilled about the psych evals, but aside from that it's – kind of – business as usual," Anakin admits and falls to sit on one of the couches by the window. 

Psych evals? Palpatine narrows his eyes. "Surely the Jedi High Council doesn't think _ you're _ to blame for General Kenobi's decision?"

"Hm? No, that's not it – the High Council mandated mental health examinations for all Jedi active in the war. I figure their assumption is that Obi-Wan was just – pushed to the brink," Anakin sighs. "And that it might be happening to others."

It damn well better, considering the effort he'd put in it. The Jedi Order had displayed a bothersome resilience in the face of horrors of war and there was a limit to how far he could get Dooku to go before the Separatist council would begin pushing back. 

Psychological evaluations imply a worrisome possibility, however. One of _ treatment _ of all the horrors and trauma Jedi should by this point have been taught to suppress until they broke under it. Palpatine hadn't been subtly manipulating the Temple's relationship with the Psychiatry Guild for nothing, and should this be the thing that brought to light the purposeful lack of mental health care among the Jedi…

Making a mental note to push for a discrediting campaign against the Psychiatry Guild, Palpatine puts on a sympathetic look. "It is concerning that in such circumstances your teacher still seeks to hold onto his position among the Military – if it's the war that is causing his… change of heart, then surely it would be better for him to distance himself from it?"

It would've been much easier for everyone if Kenobi had just secluded himself in some distant temple and stewed in his trauma and failings until he died.

Anakin snorts. "Yeah, that's not going to happen," he says and then sighs. "I am worried about him though. He's getting involved with a lot of politicians, and I'm not sure he knows what he's getting into."

"Oh?" Palpatine asks, steepling his hands and watching him closely. "How do you mean?"

Anakin shrugs. "Obi-Wan is good friends with Bail Organa – Senator Organa even took him in after he left the Temple. And I'm not sure Bail is helping him just out of the goodness of his heart."

Obviously not. The fact that Organa had wasted no time in all but draping Kenobi in Alderaanian flags is _ very _ telling. Palpatine hums. "It's… worrisome," he says. "And unfortunate, that someone your teacher considers a friend might be having alternative motives. Perhaps you can advise him there – you have more experience, handling Senators."

Anakin flushes a little and looks away. "Maybe. I don't know," he says, uncertain.

Hm, the subject isn't sore enough to push, so Palpatine doesn't. 

"It is understandable to be worried about your master, Anakin," he says. "He is very dear to you, and after so long together you are heading down different paths and he's leaving you behind. And he had left the Jedi Order too… he cannot be thinking clearly, surely, and this will only open him up for abuse. Anyone would be concerned."

Anakin frowns a bit at that and looks away. Wrong thread to tug on then, Anakin is worried about the company Kenobi is keeping, but not enough to doubt his choices or be persuaded to suspicion. Tricky, tricky…

Perhaps...

"Well, perhaps sometimes the best thing we can do is let people learn their own lessons and make their own mistakes," Palpatine sighs. "General Kenobi will have to learn to live without the support of the Jedi now, and I fear it will be a harsh lesson indeed – especially so is he attaches himself to someone like Bail Organa…"

Anakin looks up. "What do you mean, someone like Bail Organa?"

"People on Alderaan aren't like you and I, Anakin," Palpatine warns with deeply regretful voice, "Alderaan is old and peaceful, and its people don't have to work a day in their lives if they choose, everything is handed to them, easy as anything. Pacifism like that comes at a cost – one they are skilled at shifting over for others to pay…" he trails off and puts on a concerned look. "What is it you think Bail Organa might be planning with your Master, Anakin?"

Depending on the answer, Kenobi might have to be removed from the picture sooner rather than later.


	10. Chapter 10

****Obi-Wan rests his head on the pillow and lets his mind grow quiet. He can feel the flow of life in Coruscant, outside this quiet room. Bail, in the other room, still working. The other people in the building, senators, legislators, their assistants, their staffs, their guards, the senate guards, guests, family members… the 500 Republica is one of the biggest residential buildings in Coruscant, it houses nearly ten thousand people. Obi-Wan can feel them all.

The Force is so… noisy here. Like a river, with all manner of dye thrown in it, whirling in the rapids. People stir it as they move, mixing colours, blurring emotions, creating eddies. It's heavy, how much emotion there is here – nothing at all like in the Temple, where people feel like still ponds, like crystal puddles, so calm, so quiet, resonating like wind chimes, creating harmonious peace.

Quietly, Obi-Wan sways in the eddies, letting them stir him this way and that – feeling it all, but detached. There's so much there, so many voices, that it feels almost as though if he just struck the right chord, he could turn it all in white noise. Into a river of white rapids and black water, heated noise into the rush of water – emotion into powerful current, invigorating, instead of stifling.

Coruscant has became still in its cacophony – still water, spoiling with all the toxic emotions and thoughts dumped in it.

How could he have ever been so blind to it?

"Hey," a voice murmurs at his ear. "Come out of it."

Obi-Wan draws a deeper breath, cooler against the heated pressure in his head. There's a body behind him, hand at his shoulder – Rex, his lips against Obi-Wan's shoulder, tentative. "Now, I'm no Jedi, but I'm pretty sure meditation is supposed to be soothing."

"Oh," Obi-Wan sighs, and tension he didn't even realise he was building up drains out of his body, leaving him feeling not at all relaxed, but weary and aching. "Well, you're right about that, Jedi or not," he groans and runs a hand over his face. He's sweating. "I never thought I'd say it, but, _Force_, I miss space. At least it's quieter there."

Rex hums, sympathetic, and kisses his shoulder. "Maybe soon you will get back there," he murmurs. "I have it on good authority that cavalry is coming, anyway. I think they intend to collect you."

Obi-Wan blinks and then turns to look at him over his shoulder. "Cody?" he asks.

"Mm-hmm," Rex says and rests his chin on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Just got the message. I think he's started stealing men from other regiments, just to get his in order enough to come back. Pretty sure I lost some from 501st to his cause."

"I am sorry, Rex," Obi-Wan says with a feeble laugh and leans his head back, to rest his temple against Rex's brow. Oh, this is nice. "I don't think I can yet get back out there. I haven't even started here."

Rex doesn't answer, shifting closer and wrapping his arm more securely around Obi-Wan's body, hand across his chest. "I know – I'll try and talk sense to him, once he does arrive. I think you're getting a permanent guard though – and I won't speak against _that_."

"Hmh," Obi-Wan harrumphs, smiling, and closes his eyes. He still feels weirdly drained, even shaky.

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm not sure if I can help you, meditation isn't my thing, exactly, but… I can listen well enough," Rex offers gently, stroking his fingers over Obi-Wan's chest.

"I don't know if there's much I can say," Obi-Wan sighs and puts his hand over his. "I've never stayed outside the Temple much, on Coruscant – I've never been able to… settle outside it. Homesickness, I thought, or something the like. Now that I've been outside for days, I can't… It's like the Jedi Temple is an oasis of clear water in a sandstorm – it's so _oppressive_ here."

"The Force?" Rex guesses, frowning.

"And people's thoughts and emotions, shading and colouring it," Obi-Wan murmurs, frowning. "Coruscant is mired in the Force, but it doesn't _move_, it sits still, lingering… spoiling," he whispers the last word like the heresy it is. Force doesn't spoil, Force can't spoil. And yet that's what it feels like. Like it's _festering_.

Rex hums, thoughtful. "Yeah, I have no idea what to say or do about that," he admits ruefully, and Obi-Wan laughs. "Why do you think it is – spoiling, that is?"

"I don't – I don't know," Obi-Wan admits and looks away, at the darkened window which shows just barely a view of the Coruscant skyline. "My master would say it's because Coruscant, for all that it's teeming with life, is sorely _lacking_ life. Plants and such."

"Hm," Rex hums. "Secret to the Force is to plant trees and flowers. I'll be damned."

Obi-Wan smiles a little. "Force is created by all the living things in the galaxy," he murmurs quietly. "It's a field of energy that surrounds and penetrates… binds the galaxy together."

"Sounds technical," the clone captain comments.

"It's heresy, actually," Obi-Wan admits with a tired chuckle. "In a manner of speaking. A very broad strokes view of the Force, not entirely approved by the High Council. It makes too much sense, you see, while also having the dreadful quality of being impossible to scientifically prove."

"Hmm. You know, sometimes I wonder if Jedi contradict themselves just for the pleasure of arguing with someone, if it's just themselves," Rex muses. "Or, pardon me, having a _debate_. I've heard a bit of the Force along this war, heard Skywalker give speeches to Commander Tano, and I can't tell if Jedi want to keep the Force mystical and spiritual and all that, or if they want to pin a proven explanation on it and call it a science."

Obi-Wan considers that thoughtful and then looks back at him. "That might very well be the crux of it," he admits and turns around to face the Captain, wrapping an arm around Rex's shoulder with a sigh. "The Jedi Order is a relic of a very old, very ancient bygone time. We…" he hesitates and smiles wryly. "_They_ function as an _ancient order_, that comes with a certain… atmosphere, shall we say. But our modern age doesn't really care for mysticism anymore, does it?"

Rex runs his hand over Obi-Wan's waist, watching him.

"These days, the very act of creating life sits in the hand of science," Obi-Wan muses, smiling, and pressing a quick kiss on Rex's lips. "When science can make something like you, my dear… who cares about old mystics?"

"I do, and if I am the pinnacle of modern age science, then that should tell you something," Rex says, his voice low. "I care about _mystics_ a great deal."

Obi-Wan smiles, and they share another kiss, longer, slower and entirely pleasant.

"I also care that a certain mystic isn't sleeping much," Rex adds, firmly. "If I have to take you up to the Resolute just so that you'll get a good night's rest, I'll do it. Just watch me – I'll highjack Senator Organa's shuttle, he won't mind."

Obi-Wan laughs and rests his head on the pillow again. "You don't need to do that. I need to get used to it," he sighs. "Or maybe I will take a page of the Forceweaver's book and try and untangle this mess myself."

"The what now?"

Obi-Wan smiles. "Old bedtime story from my crechéling days," he says a little nostalgically, closing his eyes. "Of a young brave foolish Jedi making assumptions of a scary spider, thinking it a terrible creature of the Dark Side of the Force, when in truth the spider was a Jedi too, weaving the order into chaos…"

"Jedi have bedtime stories?" Rex asks, amused. "This ought to be interesting. How does the story go?"

"Hmm," Obi-Wan says. "Well. There was once a Jedi, young, foolish and brave, who went out looking for adventure and glory…"

* * *

"There is something I don't understand, General," Ahsoka says quietly as she stands beside Obi-Wan on the landing strip, waiting for the troopcarrier to land. "And I know it's not my place to ask, but… you left the Jedi Order for Rex, right? So why stay in the military?"

Beside her, the former Jedi Master – and it's really difficult to stop thinking about him as _Jedi Master_ – stands in a military inform over again, a careful blend of dress inform and pieces of plastoid composite armour. It's reminiscent of that Obi-Wan wore around the beginning of the war, so it's almost familiar. But it also isn't. For one, the clothes he wears under are military white, for the Clone Army. And for two… at his side he has a blaster, not a lightsaber.

"Rex was a factor for my departure, but not its sole reason," Obi-Wan admits. "To be fair, I would have left the military as well, I more or less intended to, but I was convinced otherwise."

"By whom – Senator Organa?" Ahsoka asks, thinking back to Anakin's mutterings about the matter, as well as her own observations.

"No – by Rex," Obi-Wan says, smiling. "Though Senator Organa obviously agreed. Where my sense of morals demanded me to make that leap, they pleaded to my reasoning – and fact to the matter is, my voice will have greater weight and impact when it still comes with some authority."

Ahsoka hums. "But won't it put restrictions on you?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan agrees. "But not as many as staying a Jedi did. As a… _mere_ General, I am free to pursue avenues considered unseemly for Jedi. Such as politics."

Ahsoka fails quiet for a moment, thinking about it. Above them, the 212th's ship pierces through the layer of clouds above. It's not a full Star Destroyer, only a smaller frigate, but it's by no means unimpressive in its own right. Even frigates are still the size of the larger buildings in Coruscant.

"Fact to the matter is," Obi-Wan sighs. "I didn't quite know what I was getting into, embarking on this quest."

Ahsoka casts him a look. "Maybe if you told people what the quest was, they could help you, General," she comments. "I mean – everyone is wondering what your plan actually is. It's all people talk about, it seems."

He doesn't answer.

"You could tell Anakin at least. He's worried," Ahsoka says quietly.

Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you here anyway, Ahsoka?" He asks. "Shouldn't you have duties to attend to? I swear, back in my day, being a Jedi was busier than this."

"Back in your day?" Ahsoka grins. "How often do you plan on using that one?"

Obi-Wan chuckles. "As often as I can. Question still stands."

"Anakin was called to the mind healers for secondary evaluation and Master Che wanted to talk with Rex," Ahsoka shrugs. "So I'm here in Anakin's stead, to see if Cody will freak out at you, and Rex asked me to watch your back while you're out in the open."

"I'm not exactly defenceless – I have armour and weapons, now," Obi-Wan points out.

"A blaster isn't a lightsaber – can't deflect blaster bolts with it."

Obi-Wan sighs at that. "Fair point," he mutters and folds his arms.

Ahsoka gives him a curious look, as the ship coming to land begins kicking up air. "What happened to your lightsaber anyway?"

"With any luck, Master Yoda still has it and hasn't lost it," he answers with a sigh. "I knew I had to give it up, but I must admit – I do feel naked without it."

"Yeah. I bet," Ahsoka says sympathetically, and before them the frigate comes to land. They wait there, Obi-Wan at a military attention while Ahsoka claps her hands loosely behind her back, until the ship's landing thrusters power down and the hatches begin to open.

Commander Cody is the first one with boots on the ground, and he wastes no time in striding over to them. "General," he says, saluting.

"Commander. I hear you wrapped up our requisitions in something of a haste," Obi-Wan comments.

"I felt the situation called for it, sir," Cody says briskly and snaps his arm to his side. "The 212th are ready for action, General. Do you wish to inspect the troops now or once we have settled in the barracks, sir?"

"If the men are ready for it, now is good," Obi-Wan says and looks away. "Let them know to be on their best behaviour, however – I do believe we're being watched."

Yeah, Ahsoka thinks. By just about _everyone._

There's a crowd of reporters just outside the security line of the landing strip, all of them vying for a shot of Obi-Wan. 

Cody glances at them and then nods. "We'll give them a show, sir," he says, salutes, and then hits his comm. "212th to the landing strip for the General's inspection – and make it a good one, boys. We have an audience."

* * *

And then the campaign begins. 

Bail does only the absolute minimum to manage its, nudging Obi-Wan a little to this way and little to that, but overall, the General has the idea of it down.

First the public troop inspection, which, while not headline worthy, definitely makes an article – or a few hundred – of its own. As the public support of the war had waned, displays of the military on Coruscant had lessened too – people had grown both complacent as well as discontent with the parades, calling them a waste of public funding, among many other things – less polite things. So, you saw clone companies marching less and less.

There's something about watching a company present for their General, though. Though it _is_ a publicity stunt, it's not dressed up as one – there were no advertisements or announcements, no mention of it at all of any kind anywhere. As far as anyone knows, it's just another day for General Kenobi, on which the press had simply stumbled upon – which it is, and which they_ had. _The knowledge about the General stepping out to welcome his personal company had spread by word of mouth.

But Bail might have had a hand in helping the word spread.

In either case, _the Inspection of the 212th_, as articles later call it, looks spontaneous, and that gives it some credibility. It's not showy, there's none of the theatrics and showmanship usually involved in military parades – it's just Kenobi, watching the company go through the motions of saluting and presenting arms and then inspecting each trooper in turn, exchanging a few words with most, clapping some on the shoulder, shaking hands with others. There's a sense of camaraderie to it – like Kenobi knows each man by name.

Which, considering that the General public didn't even realise that clones were individual enough to be _known..._

Next came the _officers night_ – this one more clandestine publicity stunt, but Bail makes sure there's at least one scrupulous reporter near enough to snap a holo or two. It makes fewer articles, but it does make a few, and the images of Kenobi having dinner with clones – his commander, the captains and lieutenants – circulate widely in the holonet.

One of the images shows General Kenobi smiling sheepishly into his wine glass while the clones around him grin and laugh, Commander Cody glaring at the others while Rex covers his face in his hands. There's a lot to unravel in the picture, though thankfully the truth likely wouldn't occur to anyone. Bail is, in hindsight, glad that he booked them a privacy shielded table, as obviously the discussion didn't stay publicly safe.

He would watch out for any videos and lip readers, though thanks to Kenobi's beard and moustache, he's not an easy man to lip read. The clones are a different matter entirely.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to grow a beard, Captain?" Bail asks with a smile, while they go over the subject later.

"And make myself easier to point out at General Kenobi's side?" Rex asks wryly. "The only reason you let me go out to that dinner is because I blended in."

"Hardly let you, you would have gone anyway," Bail says. "I only pointed out that there are risks and that some caution should be taken."

"Bah," Rex says.

Bail almost grins at that – the captain is loosening a little around him, at last. 

Obi-Wan smiles faintly, holding a datapad with the image in display. "I do believe I want this framed," he says fondly and lowers the datapad. "What's next on the agenda then?"

"If you feel like it, the Coruscant Chronicler interview," Bail says. "Miss Salis has openings the day after tomorrow, and then again in four days."

"Hm," Obi-Wan taps his fingers against his knee and then nods. "The one in four days – better give it some time rather than flooding the media with my presence. Granted, of course, that Senator Aang doesn't get too impatient with my time off here."

"After almost three years of nonstop activity, you have _some_ leave accumulated, General," Bail comments. "I talked it over with Senator Aang, and he agreed – unless a disaster strikes and so as long as the 7th Sky Corps can manage their duties with only long distance oversight, you have more than enough cause to take it easy for a bit."

Obi-Wan gives him an unimpressed look. "Talked it over with him, hm?"

"Yes," Bail agrees serenely. "Did you know, his approval rating after he let you keep your station went up by droves?"

As did the public approval of the military in general. It always helps to put a human face to an establishment – and it certainly didn't hurt that in this case that face was easy on the eyes and came with a charismatic personality to match.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, amused. "Alright, Bail. I trust you to know what you're doing."

"You're a pacifist though, aren't you?" Rex asks, looking at Bail. "Wouldn't think you'd be happy about working with the military."

Bail hums and then leans back with a rueful shrug. "We tried the pacifist's approach last year, and it didn't work," he says. "Just putting the Delegation of 2000 together was a strain, not only on our approval, but our funding, our influence, our standing… a few of those Sensors lost their jobs as a result. We all took a hit when the petition fell through. In the current climate, soft approach simply doesn't work – the Senate is too… bloody-minded, as things stand."

"So you're fighting fire with fire," Rex muses.

"In a manner of speaking," Bail agrees, looking at Obi-Wan. "Fact to the matter is, the Republic isn't what it used to be just two, three years ago. The mood has changed, the power balance has shifted, the… procedure we lived by no longer _works_. We can petition as much a we like, but it won't do anything – the loyalists and the High Chancellor's cronies will always shoot down peaceful solutions."

"Padmé Amidala seems to think it does still work," Obi-Wan comments.

"She does, because she must – it's partially her doing that the High Chancellor ever got into office," Bail says apologetically. "And Palpatine is from Naboo." 

He'd hate to be in her shoes, trying to strike some sort of balance with knowing how badly the Senate had been twisted under Palpatine's rule and her belief in free democracy – in her own influence over it and over past events.

Bail shakes his head. "The senate speaks a new language these days. So, the pacifists like me need a spokesperson who knows it," he says ruefully and looks at Obi-Wan. "And it's not as if you're looking to prolong the war."

Obi-Wan runs a hand over his beard, deep in thought. "No, I'm not," he agrees. "But it's an unpleasant sort of way to go about trying to achieve a moral high ground – by sinking to your opponent's level."

Bail sighs. He says it with some guilt and self-judgement, but there's a seed of accusation in there too. "During all of this I've come to realise that having the moral high ground doesn't matter much, when everyone else is aiming low."

And now that he has the means to actually make a change, he's not going to let it slip just because it happens to be wearing a military uniform.

* * *

Miss Salis had interviewed almost every powerful person in Coruscant. From politicians to actors, from singers to writers, she's interviewed doctors and great philosophers, inventors and businessmen – she's even interviewed high profile criminals.

This would be her first Jedi. Or, seeing as Obi-Wan Kenobi had resigned the position, her first former Jedi General. Not the first general though.

She's a little nervous.Or perhaps more than a little. Though that has nothing to do with the actual interviewee – General Kenobi is sitting currently in the makeup chair chatting up the makeup artists, and he seems seems to be well behaved and well liked, causing no trouble whatsoever. A perfectly mannered, polite man, all told.

The note in her pocket tells a different story though.

Miss Salis draws a breath and then sets forth, waving to the producers and camera operators while walking towards her set. The interview would be going out _live –_ which is Kenobi's biggest mistake here, really. If you could avoid it, never make your first public interview a _live one_. Anything can happen, after all. Whoever was coaching the man should've known better.

There are clones in the studio now. Kenobi travels with security detail of four of them, he'd even introduced them to the staff – Boil, Wooley, Trapper and Gunny. They're keeping out of people's way and no one has guns in their hands or anything, but their presence is _not _helping with her steadily increasing heart rate.

"Alright there, Miss Salis?" the assistant director asks, as she passes them by.

"Yes, fine," Miss Salis promises and takes out her datapad, sitting down on her chair on set. "Just fine – maybe some refreshments on the table, please?"

"Right away, Miss Salis."

Kenobi is shown into the studio not much after. He's dressed in address inform – a little better decorated one than the one he wore to his hearing, this one at least had the General's stars and bars. He looks sharp, effortlessly well put together, and the makeup on him is very slight – just enough that the glaring lights won't make him gleam. 

He's not a stranger to the spotlight, General Kenobi. You can tell that just by how at ease he is, but it's also all over his record. He's been involved with diplomatic incidents since his padawan days, and often they ended up involving public speeches. Miss Salis had gotten her hands onto some of Kenobi's records, and it made for fascinating reading – you could write books about General Kenobi, many books, with material left over for a couple of exposes.

Normally though, it's not the General in the spotlight. As far as Miss Salis knows, this would be his first public interview. Something of a newbie, on this particular battle field. She almost feels sorry for him – would, if she hadn't gotten the tip, and she didn't feel so damned _nervous._

"Miss Salis," Kenobi greets her with a smile while the clone guards station themselves by the doors. "A pleasure."

"The pleasure is entirely mine," Miss Salis says – because it would be, soon. "General, please take a seat, see that you're comfortable. We're slated to go live in five minutes, I believe."

"Enough time to get to know each other then," Kenobi says and sits down. "I've seen some of your interviews – I suppose everyone has. You do good work."

"I – try," Miss Salis admits, just about keeping herself from swallowing. "I like to think I'm dedicated to my craft."

He smiles wider. "It shows."

Up close, he's shockingly… _warm _in appearance. It's not his looks, though he's not exactly lacking there. There's something about the way he moves, how he holds his head, his expression, the general shape of his face, his eyes. His attention. Altogether his countenance is simply… warm.

It's off-putting, how non-threatening he seems, outwardly, even in a military uniform. Especially considering his reputation, his well documented military career – and the note in Miss Salis' pocket.

But Miss Salis is nothing if not a professional, so she keeps her thoughts to herself, smiles warmly, and spends the five minutes putting Kenobi at ease with a bit of small talk, telling him of past interviews she'd held and celebrities who'd been very nervous meeting her until the time ticks down to zero.

"Nervousness doesn't seem like a problem you have," she comments.

"I'm adept at hiding it," Kenobi says, and it's almost disturbing how _charming _he is.

"Everyone, action," the director calls. "We're live in three, two…" he finishes the count by mouthing or silently and then the red light of recording goes on – and Miss Salis puts on her gameface.

"Good evening everyone and welcome to Evening in Coruscant," she says, smiling to the cameras. "My name is Miss Salis, and I have the great pleasure of being your host and even a greater pleasure to introduce our very first guest tonight – General Obi-Wan Kenobi. Welcome, General."

"Pleasure to be here," Kenobi says, smiling easily.

"General, you have been the talk of the planet for the last couple of weeks, with your resignation from the Jedi Order and your hearing with the Military Oversight Committee," Miss Salis begins, adhering to the preselected topics… for now. "It's rousing a lot of interest, not least of all the question – why? Why leave the Jedi Order?"

"There are many answers to that – truth be told, it wasn't one thing, but rather multiple things accumulating into one," Kenobi says. "A difference in ethics, a difference of opinions concerning certain personal matters, some older grievances. This war itself was one of the major reasons. But to put it simply, I no longer felt that I was doing the most I could for this war and those caught in it."

"So the Jedi Order was a restricting your capabilities?"

Kenobi's expression twitches minutely at that, too quick and subtle for the cameras to pick up. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose, yes."

"You're not the first in your lineage to feel that way, are you?" Miss Salis asks, now fully deviating off script, watching his expression closely. How long would the smiling kindness hold? "That's what it's called among the Jedi, the procession of Masters and students – a line, a lineage? Something like a family. And in your lineage, there is another who left the Jedi Order to pursue more power – your Master's Master, one Yan Dooku? Currently known as _Count _Dooku?"

Kenobi's disposition is still amiable, still warm, but he's looking at her differently now. "Yes," he agrees slowly. "Count Dooku was indeed the teacher of my late Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Count Dooku left the Order over a decade ago, however – shortly after my Master's death."

"Still, there is something of a precedence," Miss Salis says, looking at him closely – and in so doing ignoring the increasingly pale producer and the director who's running a hand over her face. Miss Salis presses on. "Why do you think he left?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say, Miss Salis. You're going to have to ask the man himself, I can only speak for myself," General Kenobi said and still he smiles. "Which I thought I was here to do."

"Of course, of course," Miss Salis says and leans back a little, thinking about the note, the things it revealed about the revered General. "You were the Jedi who discovered the Clone Production Facilities in Kamino and the Clone armies themselves, weren't you – and shortly after you became the very cause for their usage and, as it happens, the start of this war. Why don't you tell me about that?"

The producer is looking rapidly between her and Kenobi and the clone troopers, and the director has sat down, looking faint. Kenobi looks at her, his smile looking rather fixed, if Miss Salis says herself. "I... beg your pardon?" the General asks.

"After you personally discovered the Clone Army in Kamino," Miss Salis clarifies, "you were almost immediately involved in an incident on Geonosis – incident, which led to the Jedi attacking the native Geonosians in numbers before deploying the Clone Army in this war's very first major battle – the First Battle of Geonosis. This war begun because of you, General Kenobi, some might say. What do you have to say to that?"


	11. Chapter 11

Obi-Wan strokes his hand over his beard, considering the interviewer sitting across from him, looking at him daringly. She doesn't look victorious – her expression is well managed, but there is a nervousness there, unease, which just about shines through her carefully maintained body language. For all of her aggressive insinuations, she is not confident. She's even a little _ afraid_. Of _ him._

What does she think he is – some sort of mastermind behind the Clone Wars? It certainly sounds like it. Good grief.

"What do I have to say to that?" Obi-Wan asks thoughtfully. "Well… it is an interesting theory, but you are missing some key intelligence there – whoever your source is, they failed to include some facts you might find interesting. You're almost asking the right question, though, so, credit where it is due," he says.

Miss Salis leans back sharply. "Oh?" she asks, and she's good enough not to get annoyed with him – she even smiles. "What is the right question?"

"Now that would be telling," Obi-Wan says and folds his arms. "It is true that I was the Jedi responsible for the discovery of the Clone army – and it is true that I went to Geonosis shortly before the battle broke out. But you miss out on each and every reason _ why._ Also I must object to your insinuation that this war begun at Geonosis – oh, it begun earlier. With the Battle of Naboo, in fact."

"Hm," Miss Salis hums, thoughtful, suspicious, glancing away at her coworkers.

"Well, it is old news," Obi-Wan says. "I was but a Padawan myself then, and I believe in the grand scheme of things a small invasion and blockade of a little outer rim planet like Naboo isn't that important. Galaxy is full of interesting planets and incidents, and with this war we've certainly had no lack of excitement and news to report on. Battle of Naboo was only the battle that put Sheev Palpatine in the High Chancellor's seat."

Miss Salis blinks and looks at him sharply. "The High Chancellor was voted in following a vote of no confidence on his predecessor, Chancellor Valorum."

"Which was put forth due to Chancellor Valorum's unwillingness to act upon the invasion of Naboo. Obi-Wan arches his brows. "Naboo was the very first world where B1 Battle Droids were seen – they were used in invading the planet twelve years ago. Naboo was blockaded by the Trade Federation in opposition and objection of a recent change to the trade route taxations, I believe – and of course, the Trade Federation is now an essential part of the Separatist Council."

Miss Salis glances away again – to the side, where the studio staff are hurriedly researching the history. Obi-Wan leans his chin to his knuckles, smiling at her. "Would you like for me to wait for you to look up on galactic history?" he asks, arching his brows.

"So what you're saying is that this war begun not three years ago… but _ twelve_?" Miss Salis asks, suspicious.

"When and who pronounced the war begun is entirely up to history books – I'm sure none of us can agree upon it until we have a victor to tell their truth," Obi-Wan says. "And while I did indeed discover the clone army, it wasn't my decision to employ them. The usage of the Clone Army was voted in the Senate – as was their deployment to Geonosis."

"But if you hadn't discovered them –"

"They would have still existed – the Kaminoans began their production years ago," Obi-Wan points out. "I don't see you blaming them for the war."

"Well, they didn't cause a diplomatic incident that necessitated the army's use," Miss Salis shoots back.

"No, that was the Separatist council on Geonosis, and the droid army they were building – and the demands they were planning on making to the Galactic Republic at a blaster point," Obi-Wan says, leaning back a little. "The diplomatic incident you refer to? My reporting of the droid army and the Separatist council to the Jedi Order, and by them to the Senate, followed shortly by my capture, along with that of my padawan and Senator Padmé Amidala."

Miss Salis looks a little dubious about it.

"It was a fun week," Obi-Wan agrees wryly. "Either way, I had nothing to do with the decision of deploying the Clone Army, Miss Salis, or starting this war, nor was the army deployed because of me. The goal of the First Battle of Geonosis was to _ prevent _ the war by destroying the droid production facilities and those droids already completed, and capturing the then early Separatist Council – which, unfortunately, failed."

Miss Salis considers it. "And you were right in the middle of it, weren't you, General?"

"Actually, during the start of it, I was rather busy being chained to a pole for my public execution," Obi-Wan muses. "I didn't even learn of the Senate's decision until much later, by which time the Jedi had already been assigned as the generals of the army. If I could go back now and change things… well, I certainly wouldn't want to be publicly executed, so I'd rather avoid that whole thing altogether, but I would object to some of the decisions made back then."

"Oh? What would you do differently, then?" Miss Salis asks.

"Just about everything, really," Obi-Wan muses. "Not buy in so easily into the use of the Clone Army in general without fully considering the moral and ethical implications of it, to start with."

"So you object to the use of the Clone Army, while holding a position of power over it?" she demands. "That's rather hypocritical, isn't it?"

"It is, it's entirely hypocritical," Obi-Wan agrees, arching his brows. "But three years ago I accepted responsibility over a section of the Army as its General, because it was what was demanded of me, of all Jedi. If I now turn my back on the men still suffering and dying in this war because I have moral compunctions concerning the matter? I think that would be more hypocritical still."

Miss Salis blinks at him and then sits up straighter. "Wait, let me see if I got this right," she says suspiciously. "You left the Jedi Order due to difference concerning moral choices – and your objections were concerning the use of Clone in, which _ you _ discovered?"

"Can you discover a sentient thing that already exists and is known?" Obi-Wan muses, sighing. This all came out a bit too soon – he and Bail had planned on introducing the subject slowly to the public consciousness, not this fast. "But yes, I suppose I will have to shoulder that responsibility."

"And yet, despite these objections you now have and _ because _ of them, you're staying as a General in the military?" Miss Salis asks with disbelief.

Obi-Wan gives her a look. "You can't change a system from the outside, Miss Salis. True change has to come from within."

* * *

"Not my best showing," Obi-Wan muses while Bail considers the re-play of the interview. "When she went off script, it rather took me flat-footed."

"Yes, and she will feel the consequences of it," Bail muses. It wasn't unknown for her to go out of her way to get reactions out of her guests, nor was this the first time she went off script. Miss Salis was even somewhat famous for pulling stunts like these. She was known for certain… harder brand of interview journalism, getting truths and secrets out of her guests by any means necessary. It made her, in certain circles, trustworthy, and up until this point she had shown sympathy to the cause of the Delegation of 2000, so, somewhat foolishly, Bail has assumed she would be on General Kenobi's side. But clearly not.

Seems like her anti-war bias didn't serve them here. Hm.

The interview is garnering some mixed reactions – Obi-Wan didn't fully come out on top of it, but he wasn't shamed for it either. On one side people are calling him a variety of unflattering madness, on the other side people are aware that Miss Salis sprung her accusations out of the blue and didn't prepare him – never mind the fact that she had failed in her research. 

Granted, that was because the topics she brought up were not fully public knowledge. Some senators knew, Bail knew that Obi-Wan had been involved in the matter of the Clone Army from the beginning, but the other details were a little unclear. The start of the Clone Wars and the Battle of Geonosis is still such a mess.

In conclusion, mixed results for a mixed interview – and certainly, Bail wouldn't be working with her programming again.

"It's not unrecoverable," Bail says. "You lost some popularity and you gained some popularity, these things happen. And, while it's too early to start introducing your agenda in full, it likely was always going to be to soon. Notice her stance – it's very general, accusatory towards you, yes, but for what? What reason, other than as an attempted character assassination?"

"To think I've gotten to the point where such things are a threat to me," Obi-Wan muses. 

"Someone out there certainly seems to think you a threat – enough so that they'd implicate themselves as a member of the senate," Bail says and sets the holopad down. "Not that it narrows the thing down much."

Obi-Wan hums in agreement, looking away thoughtfully.

Bail considers him. "It's alright, Obi-Wan – this is only the very first interview of many to come, and I will make sure the others are much more amiable. It was a tough start, but nothing we can't recover from."

"The thing is, there was a seed of terrible truth in it," Obi-Wan muses. "She wouldn't know to ask the right question, the information is classified, but she wasn't entirely on the wrong track, blaming a Jedi."

Bail frowns. "How do you mean?"

"The Clone Army was ordered by a Jedi, paid by a Jedi. The Jedi we haven't seen since, but thanks to him the army was designed for us," Obi-Wan says quietly and sighs. "Twelve years ago, in secret without any of us the wiser, Master Sifo Dyas set the whole thing in motion, and he hasn't been seen since."

Bail hums, leaving back. "I didn't know that," he says slowly.

"No one goes – it's top secret. Only Jedi High Council and the High Chancellor know,". Obi-Wan admits and looks at him, smiling wryly. "I'm committing treason just by telling you. The clones suspect something, of course – and I've told Rex everything, but…"

"Obi-Wan, that's… extremely troubling," Bail says quietly. "For the Jedi Order to be the cause…"

"Well, While Sifo Dyas had the army created, the Republic was quick to claim ownership," Obi-Wan says wryly, bitterly. "And the decision to make more was certainly not within the Jedi Order's purview, was it?"

"Still, the implications aren't good – especially not if someone else starts asking questions, if people begin looking into it further and investigating," Bail muses. The current assumption was that the clone army was originally commissioned either by accident or by someone who then had failed to retrieve it – or that it was purely Kaminoan endeavour and the means by which they had bought their place in the Republic and their seat in the Senate, and that the Republic had simply claimed and made use of what was already there. Some had even called it a genius move, saving the Republic the horrors of conscription – and they didn't have to pay for ten years of clone production and development…

But for a Jedi to be behind it all…

Bail turns the thought in his head, and the biggest issue he had with this is – where did the money come from? A batch of five million clones had been commissioned, and the production, training and equipping wasn't exactly free. The Senate had to take a loan from the Banking Guild just to keep the production up. What kind of Jedi had that kind of money to spend? Never mind the initial research, funding and testing, which must've also had a cost… and the actual ships they eventually launched those troops in, most of which came with that same initial price tag of _ already paid for._

Who had the money to do this? Where did the money come from?

"This is extremely concerning," Bail murmurs.

"This whole war is _ concerning_," Obi-Wan sighs.

* * *

Rex watches with arms folded and face set as a bunch of taking heads dissect Obi-Wan's interview. He doesn't need to be an expert on the matter to tell that it hadn't gone according to plan. Or that it would have consequences.

"Oh boy," Tup murmurs beside him. "That lady is a piece of work."

"Did you know Kenobi was the one who found Kamino?" Echo asks, turning to Rex.

"I knew," Rex agrees, drumming the side of his pauldron with his fingers. "It isn't well known, but it is known – Kenobi followed Jango to Kamino, that's how the Republic found the army."

"Never made sense that, them _ finding _ us even though it was them who _ commissioned _ us," Fives comments, folding his arms and scowling. "Never figured why it was such a big deal either, aside from all the yapping about money."

"It's important because there are unanswered questions there," Rex says. "One's in not sure anyone want to hear the answer to."

"Which are?"

Why they were made – because it started_ years _ before the war was conceived beyond the Battle of Naboo… and how ethical it was, actually, to employ a clone army like theirs.

And what would happen to them, once the war was over.

Rex shakes his head. "They're the questions Kenobi is looking to ask and get to the bottom of – and eventually, solve," he says. "And obviously someone is trying to show him in a bad light. Someone turned that interview into a load of shab to try and catch him with half an armour on and discredit him."

"Almost succeeded to, from the looks of it," Tup comments.

"But not quite," Rex says, frowning.

"Hey, Captain?" Fives asks. "Why did general Kenobi leave the Jedi – but stay a General?"

None of them had came out and just asked it so far, and now that the words are out, everyone is staring at him expectantly.

Rex hesitates for a moment and then shakes his head. "He left the Jedi because he couldn't stay a Jedi," he says and shrugs. "They were starting to ask too much from him. And he stayed a General because I asked him to."

"You – did? Even with regs –"

"It's not just about him and me, Echo," Rex says grimly. "It's about morals. It's about the clones, all of them. All our brothers."

There are hesitant looks shared between the men.

"Remember Umbara?" Rex asks. "Krell?"

"Kenobi isn't like _ Krell,_ right?" Tup demands worriedly. "Can't be, you wouldn't –"

"He isn't like Krell," Rex says. "He's the total opposite of Krell. And if he leaves the military, he can't do anything to prevent things like that from happening again. Nor can he do anything else for any of use. He has to stay the General – he's probably the only chance we got at –" he stops there, sharply. Shab, went too far.

The others are quiet. "Only chance we got at _ what?_" Fives asks quietly.

Rex grits his teeth and quickly scans the room. "Making out of this war as people," he says lowly. _ Rather than redundant war ordinance to be mothballed. _

The others share worried, uncertain looks, and Rex curls his hands into fists and then straightens his back and leaves the room before he does something more, something worse – something properly treasonous. He doesn't have Obi-Wan's liberty or his privileges – he still had to tread with caution.

Better to take it out on a practice range before setting out to find if Skywalker was out of the mind healers yet.

So, Rex takes a turn at the shooting range and then, once he's emptied a clip into target, he checks his chrono and then calls commander Tano.

"Hey, Captain," she says, looking a little troubled in her hologram. "What's up?"

"Just called in to check the status on General Skywalker. Haven't heard from him in a couple of days."

"Still busy in the halls of healing, I'm afraid," Ahsoka says. "They won't say why, and I haven't seen him all day either. I'm sorry – I'll let you know as soon as I know something, alright? Did your see Obi-Wan's interview?"

"I saw," Rex agrees grimly. "That reporter went off script."

"Yeah, I thought it was off," Ahsoka says and hugs herself. "We should do something for him."

Rex frowns, sitting down. "Like what, commander?"

"I don't know. Something! That reporter was trying to make him look bad, and it didn't completely succeed, but people are going to be terrible about it, I just know it. We should show him we support him."

Rex smiles a little at that. "He knows we support him," he assures her. "He knows."

"Show everyone else then," Ahsoka says firmly. "It just – right now it just looks like he's alone out there. No Jedi Order at his back, nothing, so – we should do something for him."

"Commander, you don't – you shouldn't do anything," Rex warns her. "Obi-Wan, he's – it's kind of delicate, what he's doing, and he left the Jedi Order for a reason. If the Order now starts rallying to his cause, it might look bad."

"And how good will it look if we shun him? People are already judging him for leaving – we should show them that he left, you know, with our blessing, and we still care about him," Ahsoka says. "And I don't mean anything big like rallying – just something small to show that were on his side. Like, _ Go General Kenobi_. You know?"

Rex runs a hand over his scalp, unsure. If he'd learned anything from dealing with Bail Organa these last couple of weeks, it's that every small gesture could be hugely political. Like what robes you wore, in Obi-Wan's case. "What would that be, then?"

"I don't know, um…" Ahsoka thinks about it. "How about an orange stripe – for the 212th? They got the colour from him, right – for his, you know, everything? Or, ooh, maybe an orange ribbon!"

Rex stares at her and then hums. "It would be subtle, I guess," he muses a bit doubtfully, wondering if he should run it by Bail and Obi-Wan. A stripe or a ribbon would be pretty subtle though…

What the hell. What's the harm in it.

Unbeknownst to him, back in the galley bout of excited activity had broken out, as clones with too many ideas and too much time on their hands – and yet, not enough freedoms – begin to plot something very similar.

* * *

Anakin turns the piece of watery gourd in his fingers, feeling shaky to his core. It's been – four hours of forced meditation this time, and he feels almost hollowed out by how – how _ not _ full of noise his head is. It's like there's an empty cavern in the place of the usual pressure, and he feels un-anchored. Loose stand, shifting with no solid rock to be seen.

"Eat your slices," Master Healer Che orders while puttering around the meditation chamber. "You were dehydrated when we begin, and your still dehydrated. Eat, Skywalker, don't play with it."

Anakin eats. The gourd slice tastes like water – sweet and cool. "I don't understand how I could've gotten this far," he mutters.

"Not enough meditation," Che says with a harrumph. "The stronger the empath, the more important the meditation is – and the act of releasing emotions into the Force. At your level, you should spend the absolute minimum of two hours every day at meditation."

"I don't have the time for that," Anakin says, looking up. "I'm always busy."

"Yes, everyone is, but you should make time – for your own sake and for the sake of those around you. You're already projecting your emotions at a dangerous rate – imagine what would happen if you became fully overloaded with the emotions of those around you? Especially with how often you and Kenobi run into the Sith, for Force's sake."

Anakin makes a face. "_Ran_," he says. "It's not like Obi-Wan and I will be working much together anymore."

"Either way, the psychic residue on you is _ appalling,_" Che says and comes to sit with him, a tray of tea with her. "Something or someone very dark has tried to take a hold of you, many times. It's certainly not making your head any clearer at this point."

Anakin sighs. Dooku, Ventress, Maul… could've been anyone. And the whole Zygerria thing probably didn't help, if he really is starting to take on people's feelings as much as Che says he is. "But it's clearing up now?"

"Can't just sweep away the rot and expect the floor to be clean, Skywalker. There's underlying damage – your psyche is scarred, Skywalker. You need to recover and heal, before the damage becomes irreversible."

"And… what," Anakin asks, almost too afraid to ask, "what happens to me if it grows worse?"

"Who knows, mental damage is always individual. It might be as mild as a minor disorder you can live with. But it will likely be much worse. You might lose your sense of time, reality, maybe yourself. Paranoid delusions are likely, identity disorders, psychotic breaks are also possible... and worse things."

Anakin swallows.

"Meditation isn't a practice without reasons – Jedi meditate because it is necessary for our sanity! Of course it has other uses and purposes, but at the very least, you should do it for your mental health," Che says and harrumphs again. "Most Jedi forget this, too concentrated on feeling the Force. So as long as a Jedi is Force sensitive, they are to some extent empathic, and thus they take in all manner of emotional noise from the world. Meditation clears it, normally you don't even need much of it. But you, Skywalker. The universe is a _ cacophony _ to you, isn't it?"

Anakin looks down. "I can block it," he says. "Most of the time."

"Blocking isn't enough – meditate! Purge yourself from stray thoughts and emotions, let your mind be at rest. It's only at rest it can heal itself," Che says and serves him the tea in brisk motions – not at all like how Anakin is used to having his tea served. Obi-Wan…

Last time he had rest properly was with Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan takes great pleasure in serving tea. It was supposed to be the padawan's job to serve their master, but Obi-Wan had never expected him to do it, going about it himself saying he enjoyed the act too much. 

Obi-Wan had taught him to meditate, lenient to his failings when he could afford it and firm when Anakin had taken brattiness too far. It hadn't… exactly made him love meditation.

Last time he thinks he had a proper, peaceful meditation… was with Padmé, on Naboo.

"Drink the tea and eat the gourd," Che says. 

Anakin drinks his tea and eats his gourd, slowly, until the shakiness finally eases. "Two hours," he says. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"Try," Che says firmly. "Any meditation is better than what you're doing now."

"Master Yoda says there is no try. Do or do not," Anakin comments.

"With all due respect to the Grandmaster, he's no healer and he doesn't know a thing about mental health, especially that of humans," Che says and stands up. "Even as personal philosophy, that particular one leaves _ much _ to be desired. Don't take advice from him where it comes to your head, Skywalker – you come to a healer, that's what we're here for. And even a 10 percent success is better than zero, _ always_."

Anakin nods slowly. "Thank you, I will… remember that."

She nods. "You're not the only Jedi with this problem. You're not alone – nor are you irreparably wounded yet, Skywalker. This is fixable," she says. "But you must work at it. Every day."

"I will," Anakin says and bows his head a little. "I will do my best, I will try. Thank you, Master Healer Che."

Ahsoka is waiting for him when he steps out – and she's not alone. She's sitting with another padawan – Barriss Offee – and that both look a little out of sorts.

"Hey there, Snips," Anakin says a little wearily. "Padawan Offee. You look worried – is something wrong with Master Unduli?"

"No, it's –" Ahsoka says, looking distraught, but before she can continue, Barriss speaks over her.

"I should go," she says, bowing to Anakin and nodding to Ahsoka. "It was good talking to you Ahsoka, thank you – and goodbye."

"Barriss, wait!" Ahsoka says but she ignores it, hurrying away with her head held low. Ahsoka looks like she wants to run after her, but hesitates and looks at Anakin.

"What was that about?" Anakin asks, puzzled and too tired to make guesses. "Is she alright?"

"No, she… she came to say goodbye," Ahsoka says quietly, sitting back down with a sigh. "She's leaving the Order."


	12. Chapter 12

"General Kenobi, there is a young woman here to see you. She says her name is Barriss Offee, and apparently you know her?"

Obi-Wan looks up from the datapad sharply. "Barriss?" He murmurs. Not a visitor he'd expected. "Thank you, B-1C0, please show her in," he says and shuts down the datapad screen, rising from the divan to fetch himself an over robe. It was just him in Bail's apartment at the moment and he's rather foregone dressing properly in favour of comfort, now that he could afford it.

Barriss slips into the living room as shown by the droid, nearly silent and still dressed in accordance to Mirialan tradition. She looks shy and she feels sad – but determined.

"General Kenobi, thank you for receiving me," she says with a bow. "I'm sure you're busy."

"Not at all, Barriss – please feel at home," Obi-Wan says, considering her interestedly. Something is different about her – and for her to come see him without her Master… "I take it this isn't merely a social visit. What can I do to help you?"

Barriss considers him warily. "Would you? Would you help me?"

"If it's within my power," Obi-Wan said slowly. "What is the matter, Barriss?"

She draws a shuddering breath and then steps closer. "I – have resigned from the Jedi Order," she whispers. "I did it just an hour ago, I – I didn't know where else to go."

"... Ah," Obi-Wan says slowly. "I see."

"You don't approve?" Barriss demands.

"Not knowing your reasons, I have no place to neither approve nor disapprove – come here, my dear," Obi-Wan says. "Let's sit down. Will you tell me your reasons?"

She sits down shakily and then grips at the fabric of her abundant Mirialan robes. "The Jedi Order… has lost its way, hasn't it? In this war, in all this fighting, in this killing and conquest, we've lost what we used to be, it shouldn't be like this, should be?"

Obi-Wan says nothing, considering her patiently.

"I kept seeing – everywhere I turned. I've studied the code, theses, I've studied the wisdom of ancient Jedi all my life – it shouldn't be like this. We've become so violent. At the beginning I thought it was fine, our opponents were mostly only droids, but – when I look back, that's not really the truth. There have been sentient opponents too, enemies we've killed not in the name of peace or to bring about cessation of hostilities by necessary violence, but simply because… because they're the enemy."

She looks up at him. "No one in this war is seeking a peaceful solution, and the only negotiation the Jedi do is by a lightsaber, to turn more people to our cause, to add more – more bodies into the living wall of sentients to be chipped away by more and more battle droids. No one is trying to strive for peace – just victory."

Obi-Wan strokes a hand over his beard. "I assume you tried talking about this with your Master."

"I did – she wouldn't listen, just told me to meditate and let my grievances out into the Force," Barriss says bitterly. "I tried to talk to Grandmaster Yoda, Master Windu – they sent me to the healers, to have me psychoanalysed, like I was _mad_ for even thinking about these things, for asking!"

Obi-Wan sighs and leans back. "You're not mad, Barriss," he says quietly. "At least I don't think so."

"I know I'm not," Barriss says and looks away. "But it's hard to hold onto that when everyone else keeps saying you're wrong."

"I know."

They're quiet for a moment before Barriss draws a breath and looks at him. "Why did you leave, General?" she asks. "Your reason must be different, since you stayed in the military."

"I imagine you haven't seen my botched up interview?" Obi-Wan said dryly, to which she just looks puzzled. "Never mind. I left for many reasons. The Jedi High Council gave me a mission with the implication that I couldn't refuse it. There was an incident on a slave planet that left me mentally and spiritually shaken. I broke my vows," Obi-Wan smiles a little at her reaction to that. "And as a result of all of this and many other _grievances_ similar to yours, I could no longer turn a blind eye to the fundamental facts of this war and the Jedi's place in it."

"... Which is?" she asks quietly.

"In this war, the Jedi are a group of largely involuntary conscripts, who were put in charge of an army of genetically engineered men with no choice in the matter," Obi-Wan says simply. "The clone army consists of slaves. And none of us took full responsibility for that fact."

Barriss stares at him silently for a moment, her eyes widening. Obi-Wan smiles sadly. She doesn't quite understand – or, at the very least, this isn't what she was expecting at all. His revelation isn't the same as hers – hers is internal, the betrayal of the beliefs taught to her, the beliefs she lived by. His is one of external nature. 

"But – you stayed in the military…" she says finally.

"I was asked to. And I suppose it _is _a way of taking responsibility for my actions, my beliefs," Obi-Wan admits. "And to hopefully do better for those men that I have led in battle so far. In this position I might, Force willing, be able to make some progress towards the end goal of resolving this war – something, which as a Jedi, I'm afraid, I no longer was free to even try."

Barriss lowers her eyes. "So I _am_ right. Jedi no longer act as peacekeepers at all, do they? We've become warmongers."

"The Jedi High Council is beholden to the Senate," Obi-Wan agrees with a shake of his head. "And the Senate no longer works at it used to. The Republic has become patriotic, a single concept rather than collection of many varying entities with different voices... and the Senate, for the larger part, has followed. As such, I'm afraid the Jedi Order has lost its ability to retain neutrally long time ago."

Barriss nods, still squeezing the fabric. "If the Jedi cannot pursue peace and the Senate refuses to, how is this war ever going to end? The Separatists certainly don't want to stop – and the war is easier for them, isn't it, because they use droids. Droids are cheaper and faster to replenish… than clones." She trails away with a grimace.

Obi-Wan hums, regretful. "I don't know, Barriss. Likely it will end in someone's victory and another's loss, once both sides finally start overextending their means, and who knows how long that will take," he sighs. "Unless someone gains the necessary political power to finally sue for peace, with the Senate's backing."

"Is that going to be you?" Barriss asks, perceptively.

Obi-Wan laughs. "Force, I hope not. But if whatever influence and power I have as a General might aid someone else in the task…" such as Bail, he hopes.

Barriss hums. "I never thought of the war like this," she murmurs. "I should have, but all I saw were the battles, the fighting, the killing and dying."

"As did I," Obi-Wan agrees and smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, I have been hanging out with politicians lately. Now," he says, clapping his hands loosely together. "Setting all that aside for a moment… you've left the Jedi Order. What do you plan to do next?"

"I… don't know," Barriss admits quietly and looks at him. "But I know I can't do what you do. I don't want to stay in the military, I _can't_."

"I understand," Obi-Wan says sympathetically. "It's alright. I'm sure, between ourselves, we can think of something perfect for you."

* * *

A ripple effect curses through the galaxy, quietly, one small wave at the time.

Doubt within the Jedi Order grows, as the High Council tries to cover for the implications of one of its own walking out so publicly. They overreact, and the Jedi are recalled, subjected to psychological evaluations and examinations – which are discovering underlying issues and which sends the entirely wrong message.

Due to years of small subtle manipulations, the impression of mental health care and psychiatry within the Jedi Order is peculiarly twisted – and it appears not as an aid or healing, but as a judgement. A hero in need of mental healthcare is one pronounced unstable and unbalanced and most of all, a threat. After all, what is an unbalanced Jedi, but a Darksider to be?

This is the message the Jedi High Council sends, unknowingly, to its members – you are unstable, what you are thinking and feeling is wrong and you need to be controlled.

This is why Barriss Offee leaves – because she's had spiralling thoughts of _what if,_ and she fears that if she stays, they might be proven right.

That is why many Jedi now gather in the halls, in private chambers, whispering, _what if..._

Another ripple courses through other waters, a story, a rumour, a bit of gossip, carried by the mouths and minds of soldiers, growing in the telling. A tale of a clone commander, Captain by chosen title, and a Jedi General, now resigned, and their love, their passion. Some stories are cruder, some more romantic, but all bear a seed of truth and something of a pride for those clones sharing the tales that seem to grow more forbidden the longer they're told. _Do you know about Captain Rex and General Kenobi? They were captured together, made equal by their situation, and they fell in love and everything changed._

The rumours only gain more flight when the first clone is seen with an orange stripe on their armour, which clashed with the rest of the blue armour paint.

"For Kenobi," he says simply.

It doesn't take long before the mark spreads and changes – from a simple stripe to letters in other paint, ROK, chosen because CRGK looked too much like someone gargling rocks and RK just didn't have the right _oomph_. Very quickly the addition of an orange ROK mark on clone armour spreads through battalion after battalion – as do the stories, now changing, evolving.

Meanwhile, some industrious clone with very similar ideas puts together a poster, which is turned into a stencil, which is for the very first time used on the wall of Coruscant barracks of the Great Army of the Republic. A stylised face in profile, sharp lined and bearded and easily recognizable, with six bold letters of Aurebesh underneath it.

KENOBI.

It spreads slower than the ROK mark – but eventually, it would spread much farther.

Another ripple, larger, more public and more complicated, washes over public consciousness, as media starved for news other than those of battle and war latched onto the Evening in Coruscant interview and the implication than one man could be blamed for a galactic war.

"I mean, if you think about it, Miss Salis' ridiculous insinuation is almost flattering. Imagine having that kind of power."

"But isn't she also kind of right? I mean, for decades the Jedi have been involved in all manner of diplomatic endeavours – with increasingly poorer results. Shouldn't we be more worried…"

"I have here the Analysis of the Battle of Naboo by Jarvek AminBular – a renowned military historian – and it says right here, at the start of the blockade High Chancellor Valorum requested the aid of Jedi Order, who sent Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi to begin negotiations and broker peace –"

"And it wasn't anything the Jedi did, was it – the Separatist Council have had very clear goals right from the start, and their demands go back years and years before the war even started – the Techno Union protested the increased taxation on manufacture and on production materials, there were the protest on trade route taxes obviously, then the taxation on droid-based manufacture…"

"Needless to say, Miss Salis' reputation is taking something of a hit after this – there's a whole list of people who have pulled their support and said they'd no longer be open to interviews by Miss Salis – and Mon Mothma, slated to be interviewed just tonight, ended up cancelling due to _personal reasons…_"

"And what is General Kenobi doing now?"

General Kenobi is sitting with a young former Jedi Padawan and wondering worriedly if he had to prepare himself for other Jedi following her – and his – example, and what he could do to look after them. It would be a bit much to expect Bail Organa to host them all or fund them personally – not only would that undoubtedly become expensive, but politically it would very quickly become problematic, like a power grab on Bail's part.

Bail Organa is already under some scrutiny for the plan of getting General Kenobi an Alderaanian citizenship.

Now something else would have to be arranged, something safe and secure enough. Jedi were targeted by all manner of ills, after all, especially so Jedi on their own. Even a former Jedi still has a Jedi's powers. Some sort of system of support would have to be established.

Elsewhere, a Dark Lord of the Sith grows impatient and irritated. It's time, he thinks, to remind the good people of Coruscant what this war was _really_ about.

Change washes over the galaxy, one butterfly wing beat at a time.

* * *

Ahsoka and Anakin are meditating. Together. It's – kind of novel.

Not that they hadn't meditated before, they had. It's just – usually it was under duress. Either with Master – with Obi-Wan standing over them and making them meditate together, or they were captured by the enemy or some other life threatening situation, and had to meditate to figure out a way out, or to gather the Force, or… well. Point being, it usually only ever happened under pressure, with Anakin.

Anakin has been making an effort since the bout of mind healing. For days he'd been in and out of the Halls of Healing, and when he'd finally came through it, he was looking kind of sicker than he'd started. Because, apparently… that relatively healthy look he was putting on, the confidence, the energy, all of it? Projecting.

Ahsoka peeks one eye open to look at her master. He still looks a little pale, but now that she thinks about it, it's a… good sort of pale, sort of. She can't quite put a finger on it, human complexion and how it works is not that familiar to her, but the way he looked before, flushed pink and with the shadows under his eyes, that was probably not good. The shadows are going away now, his skin looks fresher somehow. He _feels_ fresher, too.

Anakin Skywalker has always been something of an intense Jedi, Ahsoka thinks. Everyone knows how strong he is – she better than most – but it also comes with intensity of presence, of… _force of will_ really. Everything Anakin does, be it anger or humour or even calm now, he does it with _power_. It makes it easy to find him when there's blaster bolts all over the air and everything is covered by dust, and Force knows Ahsoka got used to it, but… in hindsight… maybe it wasn't healthy.

Maybe he was a bit _manic_ at times.

"Ahsoka," Anakin says, not opening his eyes. "We're meditating."

Ahsoka grins a little and then closes her eyes to join him. Around them, the Room of Thousand Fountains is cool and soothing, with thousand rippling ponds and gentle air-conditioning making the leaves of thousands and thousands of trees rustle. It's been a long time since she's meditated here – not since her own Crecheling days, really – so it's nice, all of this is nice. And it's nice how it makes Anakin feel in the Force. It's like it's cooling him down. Like a cold cloth over a feverish face.

_Do I really feel feverish to you?_ Anakin wonders silently.

_Well… not right now. But sometimes,_ Ahsoka admits. _But I figured it was because you were just… concentrating really hard on whatever was at hand._

Anakin draws a slow breath and then releases it slower. _I should tell you what's going on._ The words come with a wash of discomfort.

_Um. I've guessed some of it, it's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to,_ Ahsoka says quickly.

_No, I think I should,_ Anakin says, taking another deep breath. There's a core of unease there, but also determination. _You know that I am… somewhat on the stronger side of empathy._

She almost laughs out loud. _Yeah, that's a way to put it,_ she agrees. _You are somewhat on the stronger side of most things when it comes to the Force. Is this your way of trying to be humble?_

He harrumphs silently at her. _Snippy,_ he admonishes. _Let me speak, little one – I don't think I can tell it to you twice. And, it should be obvious, but don't tell anyone. Especially not Obi-Wan. Rex, maybe, but I'd rather you didn't, I don't want to be the reason he has to keep secrets from Obi-Wan…_

_You're babbling,_ Ahsoka interrupts him – and not only is he mentally babbling, but he's nervous. _I won't tell anyone, Master. You can trust me._

_... yeah. I can,_ Anakin agrees with a sigh. _Ahsoka, I am not well. I haven't been doing my meditations in… months, and I haven't done them nearly enough for years – maybe not ever. Master Healer Che says that at my level I should be meditating up to two hours a day – not all at once, maybe, but along the day, I should spend at least two hours purging myself from emotional residue I inadvertently take in from the world around me, from the Force… and I haven't been doing that._

Ahsoka's stomach clenches and sudden chill washes over her back. _Oh no,_ she says. _Then the visits to the Halls of Healing -?_

_Mental and spiritual purging,_ Anakin agrees wryly, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. _I still feel like someone's gone in and scooped out my brain. Everything is so much clearer now, but I'm… feeling a little shaky still. And Healer Che says I have… psychic scarring, because of the emotional overload I was operating with. It will take time to heal – and I … want to heal_.

_Of course – of course you do. Of course you should!_ Ahsoka agrees quickly. _How can I help?_

Anakin releases a shuddering sigh. He feels embarrassed and annoyed and grateful and a little ashamed, and it's already turning into a mess. _Just meditate more with me, that will do for a start,_ he says, through the wash of emotions. _And badger me to do it, if I don't have the time. I'm not that… fond of meditating, so I might need reminding. And I'd appreciate if you did that for me._

_I definitely can and will do that, Master, every day,_ Ahsoka says quickly and opens her eyes. _But… why don't you want Obi-Wan to know?_

Anakin's eyes are still shut, but he's frowning a little. _He isn't my Master anymore,_ he says. _He'll feel responsible, and I don't want to make him feel guilty for things that… guilt won't really help with. He has enough on his plate, anyway._

Ahsoka frowns at that, tilting her head. That sounded a little bit… not bitter exactly, but kind of… sour. _If you say so,_ she answers, if a little dubiously. Isn't his Master anymore? Well, obviously he isn't, in the teacher sense, but…

What was it Anakin said? Something about not blaming Obi-Wan for the mess, because Obi-Wan was so young when he became Anakin's Master. It was said jokingly, it didn't sound like Anakin actually blamed Obi-Wan, but maybe there was some truth to it. As Anakin's Master, Obi-Wan would've been the one to teach him to meditate – especially so since Anakin came from civilian life straight to becoming Obi-Wan's padawan.

The idea that her Master, that all Jedi Masters, are flawed in their own ways isn't new to Ahsoka, she's seen it happen. But somehow, she hadn't really ever considered the idea that Anakin might find Obi-Wan flawed. They always worked so well together and seemed to honestly respect each other.

_I'll bother you to meditate every day,_ Ahsoka says. _We'll figure it out together, Skyguy._

He smiles. _Thanks, Snips._

Together they settle back into the grass and into meditation, Ahsoka drawing in a slow, cooling breath, and offering her master all the soothing thoughts she has to give. Anakin answers with strength and confidence, and together they find a harmony.

And of course, the moment it feels like Anakin might be feeling a bit better, their comms go off.

* * *

"What do you think?"

Rex looks around somewhat dubiously, not entirely sure. "It's not very secure," he comments, resting a hand on his blaster. "No defences, no shields – too many sniper positions all around. And it's… completely made of glass."

"It's an old greenhouse," Obi-Wan says, smiling. "It used to be part of the University of Coruscant, before they moved to the other side of the city centre – the old university campus was taken over by the College of Trade Association, and they had no need for a greenhouse. The place has been in sporadic use ever since, but no one really set a permanent shop here."

"Obi-Wan," Rex says while the men of the 212th move about the enormous, cavernous glass space to try and secure the woefully unsecurable perimeter. "This place is a death trap."

"Psh," Obi-Wan says dismissively, looking around. "Shield generators on the roofs, replacing the glass here with reinforced equivalent should make the ceiling blaster proof enough. With the 212th stationed more or less all around me, they will play the part of security…"

"Obi-Wan, I'm _telling_ you, it's not secure," Rex says with a sigh. "Even with shield generators and more sturdy glass, this place is still a _death trap_. All it takes is one speeder crashing in through the ceiling, and that's it – on just the base level it's not secure enough, and securing is not worth it. I've looked at your budget – keeping this place safe would take most of it."

Obi-Wan hesitates at that and then sighs, disappointed.

"I don't want to rain on your parade," Rex says, not feeling all that apologetic. "But I am _not_ letting you set up shop here. There are better locations, right? You had five other potential locations selected, didn't you?"

"I do. I really did like the idea of this place, though," Obi-Wan says and shakes his head. "I suppose I miss the Temple gardens."

"I'll get you houseplants," Rex says, shaking his head. "What were the other locations like?"

"Well, one of them was an old theatre," Obi-Wan says and looks around them. "Much smaller than this place, but it's all allacrate, nice and thick."

"I like it better already," Rex says firmly and waves over to Cody, who is giving the glass ceiling a sort of doomed look. "I talked sense into him, Cody, he's seen the light. You can unclench."

Obi-Wan makes a face at them while Cody heaves out a sigh. "Thank the Force, I was getting _worried_," the commander says and walks over to them. "General Kenobi, please, mind your own safety."

"Alright, _alright_," Obi-Wan says with a sigh and smiles amusedly. "But then, I have you two to mind it for me, so really –"

"We're not always here, sir, and you don't have a lightsaber to cut your way out of trouble anymore," Cody says. "Just please, for my sanity, if for no other reason."

"Alright," Obi-Wan says again. "Consider me well reprimanded. I'll be mindful. And since you aren't going to let me even consider this place, I suppose we can go – no point in looking around and just making myself sad."

Rex shakes his head, and the 212st secure the path back to the speederbus. There aren't that many reporters around, but there are a few spectators and some of them are vying to get a closer look at Obi-Wan – and obviously there is no way to vet them – so Rex is glad they do it. Obi-Wan is getting reckless enough with his own life as it is. Something about having personal freedom just made the man throw all caution to the wind.

Rex enters the bus at Obi-Wan's heels and sits beside him while the 212st make an honour guard fit for a Senator around on speeder bikes. "So, say you buy one of these places – or rent it, or however it works," Rex says. "Then what happens?"

"With the gracious donation by Bail and some of his friends, we will refurbish it fit for the former Jedi," Obi-Wan says. "With the necessary amenities, comfort and, yes, Rex, the security as well. It won't necessarily have to be their last port of call, but it's better to have something set up for them than nothing. Barriss is already showing interest in taking up some sort of management of it – as a senior padawan she certainly has the skills, but sadly her former Master didn't trust her with much in the way of authority or responsibility."

"Hmm," Rex answers, thoughtful. He'd never worked with Barriss Offee personally, but Commander Tano had, and she had nothing to complain about her – other than the fact that Offee was a little by the book. "Lack of trust is usually for a reason," he comments regardless.

"Maybe. I don't know, and I don't want to examine it too closely," Obi-Wan says with a sigh. "Barriss is an intelligent and driven young woman, and maybe Master Unduli had a reason for holding her back, maybe she didn't – I don't want to judge either of them. But that young woman desperately needs something to do with her life, and this might be it, it might not be it, but it's something to start with."

"Will you be living in this place?" Rex asks slowly.

Obi-Wan glances at him and smiles. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a place for our own?"

Rex clears his throat. "I – wouldn't object," he admits, a little awkwardly. "But the 500 Republica has, after the Jedi Temple and the Senate building, the best security in Coruscant." And he'd rather live knowing that Obi-Wan was sleeping behind that security, rather than in some misbegotten _theatre_. "And I can't actually… stay…"

Obi-Wan hums and reaches to take his hand. "One day," he says, rubbing his thumb over Rex's knuckles – something he only barely feels through his gloves. "Anyway, the rent of 500 Republica is _astronomical,_ and I wouldn't be able to afford it even if I wanted to live there. Honestly, I feel terribly guilty staying with Bail as it is."

"He has the room," Rex points out. "And he doesn't mind."

"He pays a lot of those rooms, though," Obi-Wan muses. "It just feels a little awkward."

"You know what would be awkward for all of us? If you went and got yourself shot at a theatre."

"I'm not going to be shot," Obi-Wan says with a chuckle.

"Again, you don't have a lightsaber to deflect bolts anymore," Rex says with an frustrated sigh. "Just humour me and consider yourself a little bit mortal with a lot of enemies."

Obi-Wan shakes his head fondly and then Cody slips into the bus and works towards them. "Convoy is ready to move, General," he says, mildly disapproving as he looks at their hands. "PDA, sir."

The former Jedi sighs. "You two are just not letting me have _any_ fun today," he complains and lets go of Rex' hand. "I suppose we're good to move on then – and don't glare at me, Cody, I will be good."

"If only I lived to see the day, sir," Cody mutters and casts a look at Rex. "_Captain_."

"Commander," Rex says, refusing to appear embarrassed and holding his gaze.

Cody narrows his eyes and them harrumphs before turning away. "Ghost Company, move out," he calls, and moves to head to the front of the buss.

Rex sighs and runs a hand over his scalp – a little sheepish. Obi-Wan chances a look at him and then grins before looking away. Rex side-eyes him a bit suspiciously and then almost jumps as under the cover of the seats in front of them and innocent as anything, Obi-Wan idly hooks his ankle around Rex's.

Well… alright then.

They're almost at the theatre when both he and Obi-Wan get a message on their comms, a direct communication from the Resolute on the orbit – it seems like their downtime is over.


End file.
